Serves Him Right
by Dendraica
Summary: When a new 'Defense Against The Dark Arts' teacher comes to Hogwarts, she turns out to be meaner than Snape. But guess to who? No, not Harry. Draco Malfoy is the victim this time. Should Harry do something? Or does it serve Draco right? Dobby fans, your f
1. Serves Him Right

  
"Good morning class, I am Professor Vanessa Cromwell, and I will be your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," stated the middle aged woman. Her black hair was coiled in a tight braid down her back and her face was pale and unsmiling. She wore dark crimson lipstick that contrasted with her light skin and her eyes were pale blue and narrowed.   
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged glances. "She reminds me of Snape," mouthed Ron. Harry hoped Professor Cromwell wouldn't be anything like his teacher from Potions, but judging from her cold expression, he despaired that she would be.  
  
However, it appeared she'd already chosen a victim for the rest of the school year. As Draco Malfoy, seated in the back, conversed with another Slytherin under his breath, Cromwell stalked back and stood in front of his desk, glaring down at him.  
  
"So," she said, pursing her lips, "Draco Malfoy. A surprise you showed up at all - I had thought your father would send one of his house elves to learn for you instead."  
  
"What?" Draco was astounded that somebody would talk to _him_ this way, especially a teacher.  
  
"After all," she continued crispily, "One does not need to learn about Defense Against the Dark Arts if one's own father is busily practicing it. Dear old 'Daddy' wouldn't ever harm you, would he?"  
  
Draco glared at Professor Cromwell. "Sit up front, please," she snapped at him, before he could open his mouth. Sullenly, Draco picked up his things and moved to the desk she pointed him to.   
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other again. This teacher was tough if she could pick on Malfoy. Perhaps this class would be kind of fun after all.  
  


* * *

  
"Did you see the look on Malfoy's face?! Did you hear what she said to him?" Ron was saying between mouthfuls at lunch.  
  
"Yeah . . . he couldn't even look at us when we left the classroom," said Harry.  
  
"You have to admit, that was kind of harsh. Even for Malfoy," Hermione murmured, then blew on a hot spoonful of soup.  
  
"Oh come off it, Hermione. This balances out. Harry, you, and me have to deal with Snape while Draco practically smirks his face off. Why not enjoy Malfoy getting dumped on by a teacher for once?"  
  
"Harry, you and _I_, Ron. I did rather enjoy seeing Draco get the same type of treatment Snape dishes out to us Gryffindors, but really! The way she was glaring at him . . . it gave me the chills!"  
  
"She knows about Draco's dad being a Death-Eater, most likely. And a lot of people _are_ upset about Voldemort coming back. She might be picking on Draco to get at Lucius," Harry wondered aloud.  
  
"Oh Harry, that could just be it!" Hermione said, eyes lighting up. "I wonder what's going to happen between those two. Draco's not going to just sit there and let a teacher pick on him."  
  
"What choice does he have? If Snape can get away with it, so can Cromwell. And if she knows that Draco's dad is a Death-Eater, she can blackmail Draco into not complaining," Ron replied.  
  
"True . . . you know, if that's the case, I don't think Draco's going to have enough free time on his hands to pick on us much anymore. He'll be busy trying to protect his father's big secret," Hermione said happily, then took a bite out of her sandwich.  
  


* * *

  
Professor Cromwell was a rather boring teacher. She didn't do nearly as many fun things as Lupin and Moody had done - rather, she had them all copy and read pages from their 'Defense Against the Dark Arts' texts or write essays on subject topics.  
  
Today's topic was Death-Eaters. Professor Cromwell was having a field day.  
  
"When your father first became a Death-Eater, Malfoy, did he do it for the money or becuase he was afraid to say no?" She asked him, conversationally. The rest of the Slytherins glared back at her in icy silence, with the exception of Crabbe and Goyle who sniggered, stupidly. Draco shot them both reproachful looks and they guiltily stopped.  
  
"He . . . never told me, Professor," Draco told her, his gray eyes not able to meet her pale blue ones.  
  
"A pity. He must have been too embarrassed to tell you about the way he screamed for mercy when Voldemort first appeared to him. Your father," Cromwell smirked, "thought Voldemort was coming to kill him." She laughed derisively. "He was sobbing like a child."  
  
The look Draco gave her was of pure hatred. "You're lying," he hissed. "How would you know? You wouldn't have been there."  
  
"I was there. Since before you were born. I was one of Lucius Malfoy's servants, until he got too cheap to pay me. I think _you_ were partially to blame for that. Lucius was probably too embarrassed of your bratty little tantrums to have decent servants around."  
  
Draco flushed, embarrassed while some of the Gryffindors snickered.  
  
"Anyway, I was there when Voldemort entered the chamber to ask for Lucius' loyalty," she told the rest of the class. "The first thing he did was throw himself on the ground and start howling at the top of his lungs--"  
  
Draco couldn't take it anymore. "Shut up!" he cried, standing up suddenly. "That's not true! You're lying -- you're making it up!"  
  
"Sit down," she hissed at Draco, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Twenty points from Slytherin. It'll be fifty the next time you have another little outburst."  
  
Pale and humiliated, Draco sank back into his seat and lowered his head. He did not look up or cry out in protest all through Professor Cromwell's story about his father.  
  
As sorry as Harry felt for Draco, he was also sorely tempted to join in the laughter. Ron was turning red, and Hermione didn't make a lot of noise, but her shoulders were shaking and both hands were clapped over her mouth.  
  
He looked over at Draco again, and the smile left his face. He watched as a silent tear fell from Draco's eye and dropped onto the desk. Draco caught Harry staring, scowled, and lowered his head further, letting his silver-blonde hair obscure his eyes.  
  


* * *

  
"You _what?_ You feel sorry for him?!" Ron cried, later that night in the dormitory. Both Harry and Ron were in their pajamas and sitting on Harry's bed, talking. The subject had inevitably turned to Cromwell's class.  
  
"Yes. I know it was funny hearing how Lucius was bawling and trying to bribe Voldemort with one hundred thousand Galleons to spare his life --"  
  
Harry stopped as Ron started snickering all over again.  
  
"Ron!"  
  
"Sorry, Harry. It's a hysterical image . . ."  
  
"I know. Draco's a pain, but he doesn't deserve--"  
  
"Harry, Draco _does_ deserve it! That's the point! Do you think he cares when Snape makes snide remarks about your father?"  
  
"Well, no . . ."  
  
"So why should you? If anything, Malfoy's learning quite a bit of humility. He can't make cracks at anybody now that everyone knows the famous story of how his father became a Death-Eater."  
  
"Yeah, Ron. I suppose it is teaching him some manners . . ." Harry agreed reluctantly. But as hard as he tried to put it out of his mind, he couldn't quite forget the sight of a tear sliding down Draco's cheek.  
  


* * *

  
The following two weeks of Cromwell's class seemed to make a definite change in Draco's behavior . . . as well as his appearance.  
  
His eyes were always lowered to the ground when he walked through the halls. He spoke in a low tone - sometimes so low that Harry heard Crabbe and Goyle ask Draco to repeat himself more than once. Draco, usually at his worst in Potions class, barely smirked whenever Snape insulted Ron, Hermione, Neville, or even Harry.  
  
Ron and Hermione had noticed the change as well, and much to Harry's relief, also were slightly worried about Draco.   
  
"I can't believe we _are_ worried about the little viper. Professor Cromwell's been nastier than Snape, I have to admit, but still . . . Draco's had this coming for a long time." Ron said. Harry thought it sounded like Ron was trying to convince himself more than anyone else.   
  
Professor Cromwell had been merciless these past two weeks, and today, she was worse than she'd ever been. Despite all her taunts since the first day of class, Draco had maintained a cold, uncaring expression. Harry had seen a tear or two escape before the end of class, but Draco had never once completely broken down or lost his composure. Cromwell, it seemed, was trying to provoke him more than ever today.  
  
"So, Malfoy, I've always wondered. What ever did happen to your sister?"  
  
"My sister?" Draco was unprepared for this. His father had rarely mentioned her in several years, but Draco remembered her. Karyli Malfoy had been rather pretty and was different - extremely different - from Lucius. She had the same silver-blonde hair and gray eyes as Draco, but a more rosy complexion -- she'd been more full of life than any of the Malfoys. According to his father, she'd run away over an argument . . . Draco had heard some of it as his mother, tight-lipped and furious-looking, had ushered him to bed.  
  
Images flashed through Draco's head - memories of him and Karylie dancing to a song on her Muggle-contraption . . . what had it been called? A radio . . . yes, that was it. A song was playing . . . a light-hearted one. It had filled Draco with a strange feeling - made him forget he was a Malfoy for a moment. Made him forget that he was supposed to be in bed right now, not dancing with his sister and being twirled about. He even remembered the song . . .   
  


_Stars shining bright above you  
Night breezes seem to whisper 'I love you'  
Birds singing in the sycamore tree,  
Dream a little dream of me . . .  
Just say goodnight and kiss me  
Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me  
While I'm alone and blue as can be  
Dream a little dream of me  
_

  
He remembered her face, smiling until a door crashed open behind them. Draco watched as the smile slid off her face and she turned pale.   
  


_Stars fading but I linger on  
Still craving your kiss  
I'm longing to linger til dawn  
Just saying this  
_

  
He was too afraid to turn around . . . he saw a hand - his father's hand - crash across her mouth and Karyli stumbled back, holding her face.  
  


_Sweet dreams til sunbeams find you  
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you  
But in your dreams whatever they be  
Dream a little dream of ---   
_

  
There had been a flash of green light, and the Muggle-contraption - the radio - flew to pieces, ending the song abruptly.  
  
Then he remembered his mother grabbing him by the hand and delivering a sharp swat to his backside that steered him out of the room. He'd looked back, but the door to his sister's room had banged close with a slam. His mother had sat on the bed, pulled him across her lap and delivered the worst spanking he'd ever recieved before. It took his mind off his sister for the better part of the night, which he spent on his stomach, crying into his pillow.  
  
When he awoke, his backside still hurt. He remembered his father walking in and telling him in a cold voice that Karyli had run away, and that he'd never see her again. The look on Lucius' face had rendered Draco speechless. It had been twisted in fury - beyond recognition. Draco was afraid of more than another spanking, so he didn't say a word. He believed his father. Karyli had run away, and that had been all.  
  
Lucius still mentioned her from time to time, to tell Draco what a waste she had been. Draco always nodded. But unlike what Lucius had told him about 'mudbloods' and the Weasleys, Draco never had believed his father about Karyli. Not a single word.  
  
"You never did figure out what happened to her did you? She didn't run away, Draco," Cromwell's voice said, venemously. "I knew her. She was a sweet girl. She wasn't a little brat like you. I liked her better than your father. Better than you."  
  
Draco blinked, hard. That had hurt a little. "What happened to her?" he asked, hoping to sound disinterested. He didn't want her or anyone to know how much this was really bothering him.  
  
"She was disowned. Cast out. Her and all her 'dangerous' ideas. I watched as she left. She had no place to go. It was winter, and she probably died out there in the cold because your father was too much of a heartless bastard to give her so much as a sickle. So there you have it. I hope you're proud, Malfoy. You brag about your father. And your riches. And in the end, you find out a shameful little secret. Your own sister - if she's still alive - is poor. I wouldn't be surprised if you've insulted her without even knowing who she was while she sat in someone's doorstep, huddling for warmth." Cromwell's voice was dripping poison. She was glaring at him, triumphantly. Draco knew there were tears on his face, but he made no mood to wipe them off. Cromwell hadn't caused those tears . . .   
  
Draco started to shake. His sister . . . cast out like that . . . how could Lucius? How could his father do that to her? What if she was dead?  
  
Draco then knew the reason he had never quite despaired when Lucius had told her that Karyli had run away. He'd been rooting for her, secretly. He had thought, all these years, that Karyli had shown Lucius up - had run off to follow her dreams or to be her own person. He had thought she'd won. And it turned out like this . . . she'd lost. And Draco hadn't even tried to stop it.  
  
He buried his face in his hands and began to sob, pitifully.  
  
"Yes," hissed Vanessa Cromwell, her own eyes appearing misty with anger and grief, wrongfully aimed at Draco for his father's crime. "Show everyone that little Malfoy cares. You didn't say a word in her defense. You didn't even cry over her when you found out she was missing! YOU NEVER CARED SO GO ON AND JUST PRETEND YOU CARE NOW!" Something snapped in Draco. He looked up, eyes blazing, not caring that his eyes were red nor that tears were streaming down his face.  
  
"I DID CARE SO DON'T TELL ME I DIDN'T!!! I DIDN'T KNOW!!! I THOUGHT SHE ESCAPED SO I WAS _HAPPY_ FOR HER!!! BUT DON'T EVER TELL ME I DIDN'T CARE!!!" Draco burst into tears and collapsed onto his desk, sobbing even harder.  
  
Cromwell was staring at him with an unmoved expression. She was too furious at his father for his mistakes to understand how much she had hurt him. As far as she was concerned, Draco was putting on an act -- a good one, but an act nonetheless.  
  
The rest of the class knew better. Ron was gaping in shock, Hermione had a hand pressed over her mouth and her eyes were glistening with sympathy. Harry saw the look on Cromwell's face and knew she was about to attack Draco further. He had to do something, even if it was the last thing Draco Malfoy would do for him.  
  
Harry got up and moved over to Draco. "Draco," he said, before Professor Cromwell could open her mouth, "Let's go."  
  
Draco only sobbed in response as Harry lifted him gently out of his seat and began walking him to the door. "Where do you two think you're going?" Cromwell demanded, rather put out that they hadn't even asked her permission to leave the room.  
  
"Out," was Harry's cold reply. He left the room with Draco and let the door shut on Cromwell's sputtering protest.  
  
Professor Cromwell, now livid, turned to find that the rest of the class, Gryffindors and Slytherins together, were raised as one and all were pointing their wands toward her. "Ulp," she squeaked.  
  


* * *

  
"Ugh, she's worse than Snape." Harry muttered, handing Draco a wet paper towel. Draco was sitting quietly on the bathroom counter, staring at his hands. He took the paper towel thankfully and wiped his eyes with it, but he could not - or would not - meet Harry's gaze.  
  
"Look Draco," began Harry awkwardly, "I know we're enemies --"  
  
"Don't, Potter," Draco said. "Don't. I don't want you to remind me of who we are. I . . . I don't want you to . . ." Draco felt a sob rising up in his chest and swallowed dryly.   
  
Harry put a hand on Draco's shoulder, and surprisingly, Draco didn't flinch away. "I want to talk to you, Harry. I want to tell you a story, and tell me if I could have changed what happened in any way. Will you do that for me?"  
  
"Sure. Let's go to the kitchen, first, Draco. I think you probably want something to drink."  
  
"Okay." Draco hopped off the counter and walked with Harry down the hall. Harry stopped in front of the picture of fruit and tickled the pear. The door to the kitchens swung open and both boys walked inside.  
  
They were greeted with house-elves of every shape and color. "What can we get for you sirs?" squeaked one. Draco stared at one house-elf in particular who was momentarily busy playing Exploding Snap with himself. Harry nudged him gently in the ribs.  
  
"Oh, um, some water, that's all," Draco told the house-elf.   
  
"I'll have some pumpkin juice," Harry told the elf.   
  
"Harry Potter, sir?! Is that you?!" squealed Dobby, leaving the game behind and charging at Harry. Harry gasped as Dobby attached himself around Harry's stomach and squeezed him tightly in a hug.  
  
"And ---" Dobby froze when he saw Draco. Draco winced and backed away. He couldn't help but think about what Dobby had done to his dad when Lucius had last encountered him.  
  
"No, Dobby," Harry said, forcefully. "He's a friend."  
  
"Friend to Harry Potter, sir?" Dobby's eyes were narrowed, but he lowered his fingers which had been pointed at Draco. "Dobby does not forget this one."  
  
Draco took the water another one of the house-elves gave him and forced himself to nod thanks to the creature, to show Dobby that he was being nice.   
  
"Former master is being nice! Dobby thinks this is strange, Harry Potter, sir. Is Malfoy . . . _sir_. . . feeling ill?"  
  
"No. Um, yes. Sort of, actually. But it's not the kind of 'ill' Madame Pomfrey can fix."  
  
"Some tea?" Dobby offered, reluctantly.  
  
"No thank you. My . . . my heart hurts. Do you understand that? It's my heart that's making me sick. I might have . . . I think I let something terrible happen." Draco drank the cold water, and sighed in relief. His crying had dehydrated him.   
  
"To who, Malfoy sir?" Dobby asked, curious. The other house-elves gaped at his forwardness, but Draco didn't seem to care about it.  
  
"To . . . Karyli," Draco confessed. What Dobby did next was surprising. Dobby took Draco's hand and patted it gently.  
  
"Malfoy, sir, that was not your fault. Dobby saw it happen. Dobby saw it all."  
  
"What happened? Where did she go?" Draco had seized Dobby by his skinny shoulders and was peering into the house-elf's large green eyes. "Is she allright?"  
  
"Dobby doesn't know where she is sir!" squeaked the house-elf, surprised. "But he does know that she is alive, sir!"  
  
"How?" Draco asked, eagerly.  
  
"Owls, sir. Dobby was in charge of tearing up her letters. Dobby hated it, sir," the house-elf said quickly, seeing Draco scowl fiercely. "But Mr. Malfoy made me do it, sir. Karyli was nice to Dobby. She let Dobby call her by her first name. Dobby misses her too, sir."  
  
"Which . . . what . . ." Draco sighed, and collected himself before asking another question. "When did you rip up her last letter?"  
  
"Dobby didn't sir."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Dobby was freed, sir. When Harry Potter sir gave Dobby a sock, Dobby went back to the Manor to say good-bye to the other house-elves. They were ripping up her letters, sir. Dobby grabbed one and hid it so he could have something to remember her by, sir. She was Dobby's favorite master from when Dobby worked for Mr. Malfoy, sir. Dobby still has the letter, if you want it, sir."  
  
"Does it say where she is?" Draco asked, pale eyes wide with hope.  
  
"Dobby . . . hasn't read it, sir. Dobby can't open Master's letter. 'Tis a rule, sir."  
  
"Was it addressed to me? Or father?"  
  
"To Draco Malfoy, sir."  
  
"Can I have it, Dobby? I'll give you whatever you want for it, just please let me have it."  
  
"You will give Dobby something for it? _You_, sir?!" Dobby was apalled that Draco Malfoy would actually offer Dobby something for _anything._  
  
"Yes, please. Just give it to me," Draco pleaded.  
  
"Allright. Dobby will be right back, Malfoy sir." The house-elf dashed off leaving Draco and Harry waiting together amidst the other happily working house-elves.  
  
"I can't believe it . . . all this time she's been sending me letters . . . and I haven't even gotten one," Draco said, unhappily. His pale eyes flashed angrily. "My father is really going to pay for this. As soon as I find out how . . ." he added, uneasily. "But I'm definitely going to talk to him about this as soon as I get home."  
  
"Why don't you send him something from the Owlery?" Harry asked.  
  
"Because I don't want a howler," Draco muttered.  
  
"Hmm, good point."  
  
"But I can send _her_ an owl from here! She probably doesn't know I'm going to Hogwarts and father doesn't know I care about her. She can write to me here . . . I've never tried that before because I was afraid she was hiding and Father would find out where she was and maybe curse her or something. I couldn't risk it - he does hate her enought to curse her, you know. I can tell."  
  
"What happened?" asked Harry. "You were about to tell me before we came here."  
  
"I'll tell you as much as I remember," said Draco, although he definitely planned to leave out the part about getting spanked. "Then I'll ask Dobby to tell me what exactly my father told Karyli while my mother was, er, making me to go to bed."  
  
"Allright," said Harry, and Draco began to tell Harry what he'd seen happen as a child. The radio . . . the song . . . and Karyli getting struck across her mouth.   
  
"Then my mother took me off to bed and when I woke up, my father said she had run away. I was proud of her, so I didn't feel bad at all. Karyli always seemed to get Father angry at her. But . . . throwing her out of the house . . . that wasn't right. No matter what she did, it wasn't right and I'll never forgive him for it." Draco seemed pained more than angry. "Not for _anything_ he did to her . . ." He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his robes.   
  
Dobby bounded back and held up a tattered, soot-covered letter. "Dobby pounded his head for taking this with him, but he didn't dare open it, sir."  
  
"Thank you," Draco said distractedly, grabbing the letter and opening it. With trembling fingers, he unfolded the parchment and began to read.  
  
_Dear Draco,  
  
I really wish this letter had gotten to you. The last letter I tried to send you got torn up as your father told me in his rather nasty reply. None of my letters have reached you, have they? I beg the house-elves not to rip them up, but I suppose they don't read my little P.S.'s on the front of the envelopes.  
  
I miss you, Draco. Just about every letter I ever sent you says that. I hope you didn't get into much trouble . . . I heard mother walloping you - jeez, that must've hurt. That's all I can think about sometimes . . . the fact that the last sounds I ever heard from you were cries of pain and I could do nothing about it. I would've stopped it, but Father threw me out of the house then and there with nothing but the clothes on my back. I don't know what he told you, but I did NOT run away. I would say goodbye to you first, you know that.   
  
I love you, little bro. If he ever hurts you in any way, I'll . . . nevermind. I don't want you thinking I'm bitter after all these years . . . well, I am, but you know what I mean. Jeez, this is awkward.  
  
Write to me as soon as you can. I'm only an owl away -- a heartbeat away if you ever need me. I'll fly over on my motorcycle the moment I get word from you, if you like. I love you, Draco. I'll never stop writing until you get to read those three words from me yourself.  
  
Love,  
Your sis, Karyli _  
  
Draco was crying quietly, all through the letter. He kept wiping his eyes as he read. "She's still alive . . . she has to be. If she's got a motorcycle, that must have cost Galleons, so she must have some money! She has to be okay . . . she just has to."  
  
"Are you going to ask her to come to Hogwarts for a visit? I wouldn't mind meeting her."  
  
"I think you'd like her a great deal better than you liked me when we first met, Potter, er - Harry."  
  
Harry looked at Draco in surprise. "You're not half-bad, you know, Harry. Why'd you do it?" he asked, puzzled. "I thought you hated me as much as I . . . well, um, er," Draco trailed off, fidgeting. "Well, why did you anyway?"  
  
"I know what it feels like to get picked on like that."  
  
"Oh. Snape?" Draco asked.  
  
"Yes, and the fact that she's much worse than Snape too. Speaking of her, I wonder if Filch is looking for us for cutting class," Harry said, nervously.  
  
"What do you have next?" asked Draco, folding the letter. "I'm going straight to the Owlrey, I don't care what I miss. I have to write to her, I just have to."  
  
"Um, Draco, Filch might catch you. It's just one more class till dinner. The bell's going to ring in five minutes and we're going to be in a lot of trouble already for skipping the rest of 'Defense Against the Dark Arts'."  
  
"Oh, you have a point," Draco said, irritably. Harry knew he wasn't irritable at _him_; he was just upset at being so close and yet so far to contacting his sister.  
  
"There's just one problem," said Harry suddenly remembering. "We left our bags and stuff in her room. We're going to have to go back."  
  
"No!" cried Draco in protest. "I never want to see that witch again!"  
  
"We don't have class with her until Thursday."  
  
"Oh, allright then. We better go back, I guess. Goodbye, Dobby. _Thank_ you."  
  
"Malfoy is welcome, sir." Dobby chirped as Draco and Harry headed back to Cromwell's room. The bells rang as they were ten paces from the door. The Slytherins exited first, most snickering unpleasantly. Draco looked at the floor, embarrassed at his tear-streaked face.   
  
"Draco, you missed it!" cried Pansy, jovially. "Tell me you weren't with Potter the _whole_ time."  
  
"Yes. What happened?" Draco asked, gaze still glued to the floor.  
  
"Well, remember when that awful Moody turned you into a ferret? And bounced you all over the walls?"  
  
Draco's eyes flew wide. "You didn't," he stated. "You'd all be expelled!"  
  
"No, we didn't. Absolutely nothing happened to Professor Cromwell," Hermione said. "Here's your bag, Harry."  
  
"Here, Draco," Ron said, handing Draco his stuff.  
  
"Thanks, Weasley," Draco said, hesitantly. Ron wasn't mad at him. If anything, he looked almost friendly. In fact almost _all_ the Gryffindors looked a great deal less angrily at him than they usually did.  
  
"So what did you all end up doing?" Draco asked as the strange procession - Gryffindors and Slytherins - walked side by side through the hall. A passing Hufflepuff dropped both his book and his jaw when he saw them all.  
  
"We worked together." Hermione said, proudly. "We all disagreed until the bell rang."  
  
"What?" Draco didn't quite understand.  
  
"We all made up this big argument about what to turn Professor Cromwell into. Pansy kept yelling for the ferret, Neville insisted on a toad and Hermione was saying Cromwell would look better off as a newt. Nobody turned her into anything, but we got her imagining we were about to any second. When the bell rang, she was closing her eyes, preparing to be turned into a piglet," laughed Parvati.  
  
"That was a great idea," Harry said, admiringly. "Whose was it?"  
  
Everyone stopped. Pretty soon, no-one could even hear the tardy bell over the yelling arguments that followed.  
  
Draco and Harry looked at each other as Hermione's shrill voice rose over Pansy's in protestation that it _couldn't_ have been all Draco's idea because _"He wasn't even in the room then, you twit!!!"_. The only Slytherins and Gryffindors not arguing vehemently with one another besides Harry and Draco were Crabbe and Goyle. They were arguing between themselves over which one of them it had been.   
  
"Let's get to class, Draco," Harry said, sighing. "We're already late."  
  
"I've got Charms. You?"  
  
"History with Professor Binns."  
  
"_Darn_. I want that class now. It would've given me enough time to write my letter."  
  
"You don't pay attention to him either, do you?" Harry asked, while Crabbe was busily getting Goyle into a headlock behind him.  
  
"Who could? He's so insufferably boring," drawled Draco.  
  
Harry grinned."See you then, Malfoy."  
  
"Yeah. See you, Potter."  
  
Hermione shrieked that they were late and dashed down the hall like a madwoman. Everyone left off arguing and started walking toward their respective classes. Slytherin glared at Gryffindor, Goyle glared at Crabbe, and Draco waved casually over his shoulder at Harry as he walked down the hall to Charms.  
  


* * *

  
The following Thursday, Draco sat nervously in his seat in 'Defense Against the Dark Arts'. He wasn't the only one. Slytherin and Gryffindor alike were nervous. Cromwell hadn't shown up yet.  
  
Everyone murmured in surprise when Dumbledore walked in the room. "Well, it appears Professor Cromwell has resigned. Some students of hers were causing a bit of mischief last Tuesday, it appears." Dumbledore didn't seem upset - rather, he seemed absolutely delighted about it.  
  
"I believe we have a replacement, however she will not be arriving until later this evening. I'll just watch over class for today and you may have a free period." Dumbledore settled comfortably on a chair behind the desk and opened a book to read.  
  
Draco caught Harry's eye and grinned. He was about to go over when Pansy tugged on his arm. "Could you help me with my Transfiguration homework, Draco?" she asked.  
  
"Sure," he said, reluctantly. He shot Harry an apologetic look and Harry nodded, understanding. Draco was in no position to choose a Gryffindor friend over a Slytherin one. They'd all shown they cared for him, but as a fellow Slytherin, he was expected to care more for his own house. Draco commonly talked to Harry, but not more than was necessary as he was afraid of losing friends in his house.  
  
It was allright with Harry. He thought it would be too weird if Draco suddenly latched on to him like his best friend. It was weird enough already that Draco no longer sneered at him or made snide comments about his family. He was even decent to Hermione and Ron, whenever he talked to them.  
  
Draco was patiently telling Pansy that if her raccoon still had yarn trailing out of the tip of it's tail, it was _not_ okay to just cut off the yarn. Harry covered his mouth to hide a smile. Draco looked over at him and rolled his eyes at Pansy while she wrote the answer down in her notebook, as if to say, 'She _always_ needs my help'.  
  
From far away in the distance, headed toward Hogwarts, a rumbling motorcycle sped across the tips of storm clouds, passing a flock of rather startled geese. The new 'Defense Against the Dark Arts' teacher leaned over to one of the geese and patted it on the head. The startled creature honked once and kept flying, trying its best to ignore her. The wind blew a wisp of her silver-blonde hair out from under her helmet, and from beneath her visor, she smiled and tucked it back in.  
  


**The End . . . perhaps**

  
  
  
  
  
  
_Disclaimer: all characters, except Cromwell and Karyli belong to JK Rowling. The lucky gal . . . _


	2. Serves Him Right 2

  
"I don't know _what_ you're talking about, Flint," Draco replied sourly at dinner. He hoped his scowl masked his nervousness as he picked at the food on his plate.  
  
"You've been rather 'Gryffindor friendly' if you know what I mean. To a certain someone you always used to hate."  
  
"You mean Harry," Draco muttered unhappily.  
  
"Yes. And Weasely. And Mudblood Granger. What's going on with you Draco? You don't even do impressions anymore."  
  
"I'm just not in the mood. Leave me alone. Can't I eat in peace?"  
  
"You just watch who you hang out with. There's some very strange rumors flying around. Someone thought it was funny to say you have a crush on Granger because they saw you smile at her in the hall or something," Flint told him.  
  
Draco nearly choked on his pumpkin juice and started coughing. Goyle had to pound him on the back. "Granger?!" he croaked. "Allright, this is getting ridiculous. Yes, I hate Gryffindors and I would never go out with Hermione!!! I barely _know_ her for one thing! _Honestly!_ What kind of dunderhead--"  
  
Malfoy shut up when he realized how loud he was being. He shot a look over at the Gryffindor table and saw that Granger, obviously having overheard his protests, was sitting with a rather disgusted look on her face. Draco gave a snort of laughter - she was just as offended as he was.  
  
Flint frowned at him and Draco glared back. "I'm getting really tired of everyone thinking I'm chummy with Gryffindors just because I don't insult Harry every chance I get anymore. Really, just because I don't taunt them as much doesn't mean I'm going to start rooting for them at Quidditch or something. I'll _always_ be loyal to the Slytherins," Draco hissed, furiously. He glared at the other Slytherins as if daring them to argue with him.  
  
Marcus Flint shook his head. "I'm not telling you how to live out your social life, Malfoy. I'm asking you not to embarrass us. For your own good. That rumor about you and Granger had no basis whatsoever, but it was spread most likely to discourage you from even _looking_ at those three if you could help it. I don't think you can take the pressure most people will put on you if they suspect you of being a Gryffindor sympathizer. I'm not threatening you; I'm warning you. Because I don't want to hear you whining to your father about us mistreating you if you keep acting funny."  
  
Draco frowned, but nodded that he understood. He was going to have to write a letter to Harry and tell him about this. Draco wasn't friends with Harry, but he no longer hated him, and he had no wish for Harry to think he'd ungratefully forgotten what Harry had done for him in Cromwell's class. However, his behavior was really going to have to change if he wanted the Slytherins off his case.  
  
Draco sighed. This was getting out of hand. Sometimes he found himself hating the school rivalries between Houses. Sometimes he even wished he was in a different House. Not Gryffindor, heavens no! Maybe Ravenclaw or something - people were a lot more intelligent in Ravenclaw. His father would have a _fit_ if he got put in Gryffindor. So would Draco. Everyone would expect him to be a model student if he was in Gryffindor - something that Draco wasn't nor had any desire to be.  
  
Draco sighed as the dinner plates disappeared and Dumbledore announced that it was time for bed.  
  
As he filed out with the other students, he caught Harry's eye. Harry grinned at him quickly, then hurried after the Gryffindors before Draco could return the smile. Which was a good thing because Snape was suddenly standing before him.  
  
"Yes, Professor?" asked Draco casually. If it was one thing he was grateful for, it was that Snape didn't take the school House rivalry so far as to tell him who he was allowed smile or scowl at.  
  
"You have a visitor, it appears."  
  
Draco's eyes widened hopefully and he followed Snape to the school's main entrance. A steady rain was starting up, Draco noted, glancing out the window. If it _was_ Karyli, she would be soaked. Draco crossed his fingers. He'd recieved no reply by owl, so perhaps it wasn't Karyli after all. She would have written him back first, surely.  
  
"Lucius," Snape greeted, stopping suddenly. "A surprise to see you here." "Hello, Severus," Lucius hissed, eyes narrowing. Draco paled. _What was his father doing here?!_  
  
"Did I miss your little convention last time? A pity," Snape said, coldly.  
  
"Where are you taking Draco, might I ask?" Lucius asked.  
  
"I was taking him to my classroom. The boy asked for an extra credit assignment to help bring his grades up over Granger's," Snape lied. Draco fought to keep his face straight. He never, in a million years, thought Snape would lie to his father.  
  
This changed Lucius' attitude quite a bit. "Well, good then. I'm pleased the boy is making an effort in his schoolwork. Although," he added, amost under his breath, "Helping my son in this small way is not doing _extremely_ well to raise my opinions of your betrayal to Lord Voldemort. He _is_ still willing to take you back, Severus. You may want to consider his rather rare and extravagant sign of mercy before you waste any more precious time bowing and scraping to that idiot Dumbledore."  
  
"I will consider it, Lucius. Now what business brings you here?"  
  
"I've come to meet the new 'Defense Against The Dark Arts' teacher. To make sure Dumbledore doesn't hire another of my old servants," Lucius spat. He looked at Draco, one eyebrow raised, and finally addressed him.  
  
"What did Cromwell say, Draco? Anything?" he asked softly.  
  
Draco then remembered his anger about Karyli. "It was most interesting, _Father_," he said in a cold tone that made Lucius' eyes narrow. "She told me about the first time you met Voldemort."  
  
Lucius gave a sharp intake of air and let it out in a snarl. "I can imagine the effect such an embarrassing lie may have had on you, Draco. We'll talk later about what truly happened. If you'll excuse me, Severus. I'm about due for my meeting with Dumbledore." Lucius walked past them, his cloak swishing behind him.  
  
Draco made a face at him then turned around and began walking to the main entrance with Snape. He looked up at Snape and was surprised to see a slight smirking grin on his teacher's face. Snape had caught Draco sticking out his tongue at Lucius and was rather amused about it.  
  
"I really am mad at him, you know," Draco admitted, sheepishly.  
  
"I understand, Draco. I heard about Karyli as well. Lucius won't be bothering her, don't worry," Snape said, gently putting a hand on Draco's shoulder. "She'll be staying here, Lucius or no."  
  
"Does Lucius know she's coming?"  
  
"She's already here."  
  
"She is?! So she _is_ my visitor!"  
  
'Shhh, yes. I suppose you would have guessed by now."  
  
"It's pouring. Did she come on motorcycle?"  
  
"Yes, but don't worry. She used the water-shield charm just as it began to rain. Hogwarts was already just ahead of her by then; all she had to worry about was landing," Snape stopped as they entered the lobby of the main entrance.  
  
Draco saw her talking to Dumbledore and although he wanted to run to her, he forced himself to walk normally. Karyli saw him immediately and waved cheerily, her features glowing with happiness. Just as Draco remembered her before his damn father had . . .   
  
Draco hugged her tightly, feeling a hot tear slide out of his eye and soaking into her robes. "I missed you," he said at length, somewhat muffled by her velvet cloak. He took in the smell of her - foxglove and thyme mixed together with the smell of rain. She smelled like a field of wild flowers just after a storm.  
  
"Karyli, I'm sorry," he said, when he finally let go to look up at her. "He had all the letters ripped up and I was afraid to send you an owl in case you'd run away and was hiding from him, and even if I had, I wouldn't have gotten a response back because --"  
  
"_Draco_, it's alright," Karyli said, smiling. "I'm here now. And I'll be staying."  
  
"For how long?" Draco asked, wistfully. He hoped it was forever.  
  
"For the rest of the year. I'm your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Draco's jaw dropped.   
  
"You're _joking_!"  
  
"Nope. Just tell me if I'm too boring, 'cause then Snape could take over-- whoa! Lemme breathe please --" Karyli gasped, half-joking as Draco wrapped his arms around her again, tighter than before. He suddenly let go with a gasp as he remembered something.  
  
"Oh no," Draco said, weakly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Father's here."  
  
"Oh. Yes . . . he'll be, um . . . rather surprised, to say the least."  
  
"Rather _disgusted_, you mean," Lucius snapped.  
  
Draco shuddered with anger and foreboding as he turned with the others to face Mr. Malfoy. Lucius' eyes rested angrily on Draco, then moved to Karyli and dilated with fury. The same fury had twisted his face before, as far as Draco could remember.  
  
"So. You decide to turn up to Hogwarts looking for a decent job after you ran away from home? Of all places. I don't see why you didn't decide to teach _Muggle_ children as you loved them so much."  
  
"Ran away from home?" Draco couldn't hold his tongue any longer. "You lied to me then, Father! And you dare lie to me now?!"  
  
Lucius shook with rage. "Hold your tongue, Draco. I understand it's hard enough finding out your sister is a _Muggle-lover_, but to believe her over me is ridiculous and will not go unpunished."  
  
"Believing you at _all_ was ridiculous. You lied to me about _everything!_" Draco hissed.  
  
"And who told you this? Cromwell? Yes, she would, wouldn't she?"  
  
"I finally got a letter from Karyli, Father. One that _didn't_ get ripped up. Now why would you rip those letters if there wasn't a lie to hide?"  
  
"Because I didn't want her to give you any ideas!"  
  
"Which now proves to me that you disowned her! Because you were afraid she'd make me 'weak'. You were afraid that as long as she was around, I wouldn't grow up _just . . . like . . . you!_"  
  
Lucius whipped out his wand and pointed it at Karyli. Draco's eyes widened in horror, but Snape and Dumbledore took action.  
  
"_Expellarimus!_" they both shouted at once. Lucius' wand went flying out of his grasp.  
  
"You will not last, Karyli. Not for more than two days!" Lucius hissed. "I'll see to that!"  
  
Furious and still at wandpoint by Snape, Dumbledore, and now Karyli herself, Lucius carefully picked up his wand, storing it safely in his robe pocket, and stalked away, not without giving one last glare - directed at Draco.  
  
Karyli sighed, bent down, and hugged Draco tightly. She was trembling slightly, and Draco remembered nights where she would cry and he would sit beside her, letting her hold on to him like she was now. He had never known exactly what had made her cry, but after seeing Lucius' anger-twisted features and hearing his poisonous words toward her, he knew now.  
  
"He's never lost control like that before. Never. That was the first time he's ever turned his wand on me."  
  
"Father's a Death-Eater again," Draco whispered in her ear.  
  
"I see, then. Draco, he's probably going to punish you for mouthing off to him. I'd give him time to cool off before you go home."  
  
"Should I stay here for Christmas, then?" Draco asked, bitterly. He'd always teased Potter about not being wanted home. Now it didn't seem so funny.  
  
"Perhaps. I'd like it if we could spend a Christmas together."  
  
"Yeah," Draco said, squeezing his sister's hand. "Me too."  
  


* * *

  
"Hello class. You may all call me Professor Karyli," said the new teacher, a bit nervously. Draco nodded encouragingly at her and she smiled briefly.  
  
"Today's topic is how to tell if you're poisoned and what to do _after_ you're poisoned." There was a great deal of muttering and Karyli held up her hands. "I know, I know. It sounds like Potions class. But believe me, it's different. No _making_ poison, for one thing. We'll be testing it instead, on this plant. Just to see what it'll do to you. We will also be studying about the antidotes, and their effects - how fast they take to start working and all that. It's useful to know - there'll be a time in your life when you might come across poison through someone else's ill will. Or by complete accident when you try to conjure something and do something wrong. It's happened to the best of us. Draco can tell you all a story, involving the neighbor's poodle."  
  
Draco coughed to cover up his laughter. "I'll tell you all later," he said to the rest of the class.  
  
Karyli pulled out a large potted plant from the closet and struggled to carry it to the front desk.   
  
"You might as well tell them now, Draco. I've got to get this ready -- ergh, heavy."  
  
Hermione jumped up and asked if she could help. "Yeah, make sure I don't trip over something." Karyli told her, eyes blinded by the dense foilage of the plant. "I can't see a darn thing."  
  
"Alright. See, there was this horrid poodle and kept yapping at nothing all day and all night. Father complained about it to no end. So Karyli decided to do something about it."  
  
"What did she do?" asked Pansy, leaning forward to hear better.  
  
"She was _trying_ to make a 'Larynsilo' potion. It would take the poodle's voice away until the occasion arised in which there was an actual _reason_ to bark. Like a fire, or something. Well . . . she kind of messed up."  
  
"_Kind_ of? Look, don't go easy on me, Draco, I made that poor dog's hair turn blue." Karyli said, having gotten the plant safely to the desk.  
  
The class burst out laughing. "That's not _all_ that happened to it. It ended up shrinking to the size of a mouse and ran in little circles barking. Mrs. Grindle went _beserk._ She loved that dog, and now she had to put the thing in a hamster cage so she wouldn't accidentally step on it," continued Draco. Once again, laughter filled the classroom.  
  
"Yes, yes, well, my embarrassing story is out now," said Karyli, rather quickly. "Now, lets get on with today's lesson."  
  
She opened her bag and took out three small vials with dark liquid in them, and set them off to the right. She then took out three more vials with light-colored potion in it, and set them towards the left.  
  
"Can anyone tell me which is the poison, and which is the antidote?"  
  
Most of the Slytherins and Gryffindors guessed that all the dark-colored vials were the poisons while Hermione and a few others pointed at the light-colored liquid group.  
  
Karyli raised her hands for silence. "None of you are entirely correct. There is no way to tell from just looking at the vials which is poison, and which is antidote. Which is why it is so easy for most people to be poisoned."  
  
"Poisoning was one of the most widely feared deaths among the Muggles, especially in medieval times. Many decided to drink only what they themselves had brought along with them. They took nothing to drink or eat from strangers, no matter how kind or harmless those strangers might be. In Muggle mythology at least, this saved a lot of lives."  
  
"What do we care about Muggles?" sneered a male Slytherin. Draco fidgeted, uncomfortably. It _was_ rather . . . unimportant to bring up Muggles, but he wasn't going to bother Karyli about that in front of the whole class. It appeared someone else was willing, however.  
  
Karyli raised an eyebrow. "I guess somebody's a little eager to get on with the demonstration," she said, amused.  
  
"But why? I mean, it doesn't matter. We're not Muggles. Not _all_ of us," sneered Pansy, looking over at Hermione. Draco groaned inwardly. Karyli was _not_ going to stand for the Slytherins' usual indifference and hostility toward Muggles and 'mudbloods'. And here Pansy was, riling Karyli up on her first day of teaching class.  
  
"I don't see what your problem is, Parkinson. But I'd thank you to keep your mind off your petty differences and pay attention to the lesson," Karyli said coolly, able to mask her anger - much to Draco's relief. "The point about the Muggles is this -- they had no way of telling poisoned wine from good wine at first glance, and _neither do we._ Whether or not you like it, we're as helpless as Muggles to the dangers of poison."  
  
That left the class buzzing, and Karyli raised a hand for silence.  
  
"But there are other ways of telling if there's poison in your pumpkin juice. If you ever suspect you've been poisoned, try the concoction you've just taken a sip out of on an ordinary houseplant. Provided that you don't die ten seconds after you swallow."  
  
A few Slytherins chuckled uneasily at this.  
  
Karyli picked up a light colored vial and showed it to the class. "Although it looks exactly like the other light-colored ones, this is a sure poison. It's called _Tristan's Ire_ and there's a rather interesting story behind it, if you'd like to read up on it in the library. Because I wouldn't want to _bore_ some of you, with Muggle stories," she said, glancing with one eyebrow raised at the surly Slytherin who'd spoken up earlier. He muttered something unintelligible and turned slightly red.  
  
Hermione's hand shot up and Karyli called on her. "Yes, Hermione?"  
  
"How can you tell it's poison?"  
  
"Excellent question. I labeled it on the bottom right before I brewed it." Karyli flipped the vial over and showed the class a small red sticker on the bottom with the potion's name initials written on it. Hermione blushed, embarrassed she hadn't guessed the obvious.  
  
Draco sniggered. "What's so funny?" asked Karyli.  
  
"Mrm, nothing." Draco couldn't help laughing at the look on Hermione's face. She'd been so sure Karyli had picked the wrong bottle up. He flashed Hermione an apologetic grin and she stopped glaring at him and rolled her eyes. He was relieved to see that Ron and Harry were both on the verge of laughter as well.  
  
"Now, boys, that was a good question. I had to look at the labels before I set them down in the order that you see them. I could have easily picked up an antidote by mistake. One must _always_ double check." Hermione perked up at this.  
  
"Now, since sight is obviously out of the question, can anyone tell me what other ways one can detect poison in their food? Draco?" she asked her brother, whose hand was raised.  
  
"The smell of it?"  
  
"That's right! Smell can be used to detect certain poisons. Any other ways? Ron?"  
  
"Um, what it does to the plate or cup it's in?"  
  
"Yes. Very good. That was a way of detecting poison - when it was stirred into the wine sometimes the spoon melted. You can imagine, then, the effect it had on one's insides."  
  
The rest of the class moaned and some made disgusted faces at the mental images that popped up in their heads.  
  
"Not very pleasant, is it? Worse yet, _Tristan's Ire_ is a very subtle potion that will kill quite slowly. The only way to tell you've even been poisoned, is _after_ you've already swallowed it. In other words, by how it kills, which is very unique. Let's see the effect it has on the plant. Draco, bring that bucket over here, would you?"  
  
Curious, Draco got up and picked the empty bucket. He walked to his sister and looked at her in anticipation as she uncorked the bottle of _Tristan's Ire_.  
  
"When I give the word, hurl the contents of the bucket straight at the plant."  
  
"It's empty."  
  
"I know, I've placed a Water - Summoning Charm on the bucket. Water will fill the bucket when I give the word, and that's when you douse the plant. Allright, here we go now."  
  
Karyli tipped three drops of _Tristan's Ire_ into the plant soil. The effects were going to take about five minutes to show up, Karyli told the rest of the class, so everyone sat patiently (or impatiently) to watch the results.  
  
"Usually, it would take longer to work on a wizard or Muggle since they have more bodily fluids to dry up than this plant. But seeing as how nobody's watered this poor thing for at least a week, it's practically kindling. Oh my, there it goes."  
  
Indeed, smoke was beginning to rise from the leaves. The leaves began to curl up slightly. Quite suddenly, the whole plant burst into flames. Several girls squealed in shock as sparks flew near them. 'Whoa, that was too soon!" cried Karyli. "Now, Draco. _Aquatis!_" Draco heaved the contents of the now-filled bucket at the flaming plant. It sizzled and sputtered and the flames died. The plant was in a sorry state and the water on the surface of what was left of the plant's foilage was still bubbling from the heat.  
  
"Dousing somebody will do no good," Karyli told the rest of the class. "The poison works from the inside out. Once you catch on fire, you're already dead."  
  
"So . . . there's no use for an antidote?" a Gryffindor asked.  
  
"Yes there is, but there's not much time to concoct it in order to prevent permanent damage to your insides. Unless there's some in your medicine cabinet or on hand immediately. The first thing to be impaired is your mind. So if you're alone when you encounter this poison, you better find someone to help you, quick, before you lose all reason."  
  
"That's dreadful!" muttered Hermione, shuddering. She couldn't imagine being about to die from poisoning and then sitting helplessly around, not having the wits to do anything to save your own life.  
  
"Not as dreadful as the other two poisons I have here. But before we continue with those . . ." Karyli tipped three drops of the antidote into the plant. She took out her wand, pointed it at the charred plant, and muttered something. The foilage fleshed out again and soon the plant was whole once more. "I haven't brought it to life, you understand. It was dead before we began due to the neglect of its previous caretaker. As you all know, magic cannot bring anyone or anything back from the dead. However, magic can make it _appear_ as though something . . . or _someone_ . . . is alive again. We'll cover zombies and the wizards who've used them for dark purposes later on in the year."  
  
"What _is_ the antidote to _Tristan's Ire?_" asked Hermione.  
  
"There's a whole way of brewing it that's very complex. Even I had a bit of trouble with it. Snape had to help me out more than once. I will tell you the active ingredients, however. Moonflower, crushed dragon-bone, and powdered unicorn horn. Unicorn horn, is _always_ used in antidotes to poison. Usually the antidote is mixed _with_ a unicorn horn, but sometimes it's ground to dust and added in."  
  
Hermione scribbled this down in her notes.  
  
The rest of class was quite eventful. Karyli showed the class a new poison, called _Demon's Nectar_, which ended up raising so many questions from both the Slytherins and the Gryffindors, that she ran out of time before she could tell them about the poison's antidote.  
  
"We'll continue class tomorrow starting from where we left off. See you then. No homework because you all payed excellent attention. If any of you want to read the story behind either _Tristan's Ire_ or _Demon's Nectar_, it's in the library in the book _Archaic Poisons Still Used Today_ in the restricted section. I'll be happy to sign a permission slip."  
  
"Why's it in the restriction section?" asked Hermione. "It's just the history."  
  
"It's there because not only does it tell you about the poisons. It tells you how to brew them."  
  
"What?!" cried most of the Gryffindors in shock.  
  
"_If_ you can read the directions -which are in Archaic runes, unlike the background story - _and_ find the rare ingredients the poisons require, _then_ you could use the book to poison someone you didn't like. So it's rather safe among you students, never fear."  
  
There were audible sighs of relief and the students began to file out of the classroom. Draco and Hermione lingered behind.  
  
"Yes, Hermione?" Karyli asked as Hermione reached the front desk first.  
  
"Can you give me a permission slip?"  
  
"Oh yes, certainly. You really like to do research, don't you?" Karyli asked, fishing around for a pen and permission slip in one of the desk drawers.  
"Oh, I love it. Ron and Harry think I'm daft for looking for more work, but they don't know how interesting or useful having background information is. Oh, and just to be on the safe side, what was the antidote to _Demon's Nectar?_ I'm not going to be able to sleep until I figure it out. That's such a horrid poison," Hermione said with a shudder.  
  
"Voldemort used it all the time. Indeed, it _was_ horrid. I can tell you from first-hand experience. Draco wasn't born yet when . . . oh, nevermind. You better get to class, Hermione, the bell's going to ring. The antidote is in the book I just gave you the permission slip. It's in normal writing - you'll be able to read it."  
  
"Thank you. Bye!" Hermione picked up her satchel and passed Draco out the door, smiling at him. He stopped her.  
  
"Can you give this to Harry?" he asked, pressing a letter in her hand. "Actually it's for all three of you."  
  
"Draco . . . um, about the rumor. I didn't mean to make such a face--"  
  
Draco laughed. "It's allright. I was making an even worse row. Imagine, you and me going out!"  
  
"Well! _Really!_" Hermione said, scowling fiercely.  
  
"But . . . but, you just said--" Draco began flustered.  
  
"I was just joking, Draco." Hermione replied, with a teasing grin.   
  
"Oh, _honestly_ . . ." Draco rolled his eyes and turned back to his sister.  
  
"Your sister's a great teacher, Draco," Hermione called, before heading off to 'A History of Magic' with Professor Binns.   
  
"Thank you!" Karyli called back, waving after her. "Draco? You're going to be late for class, bro. What is it?"  
  
"I just wanted to say what Granger beat me to. You were pretty good. I think you're going to be the one to make it here for more than one year."  
  
"Hmm? Draco, what do you mean by that?" Karyli asked, confused.  
  
"Well, no-one else has ever --" At that moment, the tardy bell rang. "Shoot. I'll tell you later. I have to go to Charms." Draco grabbed his bag, waved good bye, and broke out into a fast walk towards his next class.  
  
Karyli frowned, puzzled. She was going to have to talk to Dumbledore about this.  
  


* * *

  
"Here, Harry, this is from Draco," Hermione whispered and handed him something before going to her seat. Harry looked down at the letter in his hand and stuck it in his 'History of Magic' book. He'd read it after class.  
  
"Today, we'll be discussing the eating habits of the High Elves of Erin and their remarkable etiquette and table manners. Diplomacy was an art to them." Students exchanged looks. Professor Binns then began lecturing them on the ways the High Elves of Erin held their silverware.  
  
Harry sighed, took the letter out of his text book, and opened it.  
  
_Harry,  
  
I suppose you saw that little scene over at the Slytherin table last night. I hope you liked Karyli's first class. It went really well, didn't it? I mean, none of the Slytherins or Gryffindors tried to kill one another at least.  
  
Anyway, I'm kind of worried the other Slytherins have this idea that we're best friends all of a sudden just because you and I don't hate each other anymore. So um . . . I might not be able to smile at you so freely anymore. I'm going to have to watch it. I know you might think it cowardly of me to care about what my House thinks, but you don't really know the other Slytherins. (I bet you wonder why I never smile when I'm around Crabbe and Goyle. They're about as conversational as rocks. At least __you_ reacted when I taunted you. I could stomp on their toes and they'd just hiccup or something.)  
  
Well, back to the subject. I just want you to know that if I have to glare at you and pretend I don't like you, I don't mean it! I'll never forget what you did to help me. I mean, if you hadn't gotten me out of there, we never would have gone to the kitchen, I never would have seen Dobby, and I never would have gotten that letter from K. M. (you -know-who) That really meant a lot to me. Thank you, Potter.  
  
One last time, I don't hate you. But I _might_ have to pretend sometimes. I hope you, Weasley and Granger understand. Please tell them for me. Just in case a teacher rips this letter from you and reads it aloud, he or she won't know who this is because I'm not signing it. See you around, Harry.  
  
P.S. Please make sure you don't leave this lying around. Somebody could suspect who it is, but they'll never know for sure.  
  
Harry's brow furrowed in concern. Ron, next to him, nudged him in the ribs. "What's wrong?" he mouthed.  
  
"Read this," Harry whispered back. "It's from Draco."  
  
Ron took the letter and scanned over it. He frowned thoughtfully. "I see. Well, whether or not he means it, he's going to get a black eye or a broken nose if he makes a single crack about my family."  
  


**To Be Continued . . . **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_Disclaimer: All characters save for Vanessa Cromwell and Karyli belong to J.K. Rowling_


	3. Serves Him Right 3

  
  
"Now, according to this book, _Demon's Nectar_ was first created by a Muggle apprentice to the wizard, Grindle. The Muggle was playing around with Grindle's potions and powders, trying to make a love potion for a girl who never noticed him. Well, he accidentally knocked in some demon saliva, and that's where everything went wrong. Then . . . . ewww! Oh gross!" Hermione squealed as she turned the page. She clapped both hands over the detailed picture now showing.  
  
"Huh? What?" asked Harry, his attention caught by Hermione's cry of disgust. He looked up from his 'Divination' homework to see what was the matter. Hermione had been reading them the stories behind _Tristan's Ire_ and _Demon's Nectar_ (whether or not Harry and Ron were actually listening). So far, they'd been too absorbed in their homework - writing an essay on how useless it was to prevent their disastrous futures - to pay attention to a single word.  
  
"Ouch," said Ron, looking at the picture when Hermione had reluctantly uncovered it. "She probably wished she'd noticed him long before _that_ had to happen."   
  
"Well, after she vomited herself inside out, I don't think she was in much of a position to wish for anything," Harry said, forcing himself to rip his eyes away from the gross but morbidly fascinating illustration. Hermione looked like _she_ was going to vomit any minute. She covered the picture with a notebook and kept reading the story.  
  
"Anyway, after the girl died, the _wizard_ was blamed for the whole thing! _Really!_ Now, that's not fair!" Hermione cried indignantly. "They condemned him to die and locked him in the dungeons. I don't know why he didn't Apparate or something . . . I guess wizards didn't know about it back then. Fascinated with the poison's effects, he wrote down everything the Muggle had done in a book, including the ingredients and the procedure he'd followed to make the poison. He called it _Demon's Nectar_, then hid the book in his cell right before they took him away to be killed. Somebody found the book later on during the Dark Ages and thus _Demon's Nectar_, which had originally begun as a failed love potion, became one of the most feared and widely-used poisons ever. It was even used by Lord You-Know-Who on his victims - wizards and Muggles alike - for no more than amusement."  
  
Hermione shuddered. "Oh, yick. That's terrible. It's rather easy to brew, according to these instructions. All you have to do is ---" Hermione's eyes widened and she snapped the book shut. "_I shouldn't be able to read that!!!_" she screeched in alarm.  
  
Harry and Ron snapped to attention. "What?! You mean you can read the runes?" demanded Harry.  
  
"What runes?! The instructions are in plain simple English! _Anyone_ could read it!"  
  
"But Professor Karyli said . . ." Ron trailed off and he, Harry, and Hermione exchanged looks.  
  
"I . . . I'm sure it was just an honest mistake," Hermione said weakly, after a brief silence.  
  
"It _had_ to have been a mistake - Professor Karyli wouldn't risk her job on something like this. Just think, what if a Slytherin had gotten their hands on it?"  
  
"The ingredients _are_ rare. I mean, where could anyone get demon's saliva?" "In Knockturn Alley, probably. If they had enough money. And some of those Slytherin kids are pretty rich," Ron said, grimly.  
  
"We've got to tell Dumbledore about this," said Harry.  
  
"But Karyli will get in trouble! It had to have been a mistake, it just had to! We'll just tell her and nobody will have to know!"  
  
"Dumbledore will understand. Anyway, we don't know where Professor Karyli is right now. Dumbledore will most likely be in his office. We have to get this book to him _now_. Somebody could steal it, you know, then _you'd_ be in a lot of trouble, Hermione."  
  
"I might get expelled, or even worse - kicked out of the library for the rest of the year!"  
  
"Harry, I think we ought to try to find Professor Karyli. Lucius will have her fired in a snap of his fingers if word of this gets out!"  
  
"Lucius! He's probably waiting in the shadows for her to slip up. Ron's right, Harry. We've got to try to find her first before we go to Dumbledore."  
  
"Allright. We'll try. Any idea where she could be?"  
  
"Harry, you great prat, did you lose the Marauder's Map or something?"  
  
"Oh, right!" Harry walked over to his trunk and opened it, digging around for the map. He pulled it open and tapped the surface with his wand. "I swear that I am absolutely up to no good."  
  
Immediately, the map showed up and Harry looked for Karyli's dot.  
  
"Uh oh," he said, when he found it.  
  
"What's wrong?" chorused Ron and Hermione.  
  
"She's with the last person we'd want to see right now. Lucius."  
  
"I guess we better go find Dumbledore then," Hermione said, unhappily.  
  
"Look!" cried Harry. "They're moving toward the Gryffindor house!"  
  
"Oh my god! Lucius must have found out about the book in the restricted section . . . maybe he knows more about it than she does and when he found out . . . he's behind all this! He has to be!"  
  
"We've got to get out of here!" cried Ron. "Harry, grab the invisibility cloak!"  
  
The three students snuck out of the Gryffindor house and hid just around the corner as they heard Karyli and Lucius approaching.  
  
"I told you, you wouldn't last two days. You are careless. Letting students take out books from the restricted section on poisons! On the first day of class no less! You'd better hope this book passes my inspection. If there's so much as one spell word in it that could cause injury to another student, you're as good as fired."  
  
"All in all, you seem rather pleased with yourself, _Father._" Karyli said coldly as she walked beside him. "Hoping to find a recipe for spider-venom brownies in there?"  
  
"I wouldn't be surprised if I did," Lucius retorted as they arrived before the Fat Lady's portrait. "What's the password?" he asked.  
  
"_You're_ supposed to tell _me_," said the Fat Lady, frowning back at him.  
  
Lucius' snarls and threats at the portrait grew more distant as Harry, Ron, and Hermione snuck further away.  
  
"Now, where's Dumbledore?" asked Ron.  
  
"He's in his office --- _oh no!_" Harry hissed. He gave a groan of despair.  
  
"What's wrong now?"  
  
. "Lucius and Karyli are headed toward Dumbledore now."  
  
"I have an idea. We'll take the book back to the library and I'll tell Lucius that I haven't even checked it out yet."  
  
"That won't do any good. The book will be safe again but Lucius could still get Professor Karyli in trouble for offering to give students permission for it."  
  
"Oh what are we going to do?" cried Hermione.  
  
"Well, well, well. I don't suppose any of you thought to come to me?" Snape's cold voice filled the air. Harry blanched. He'd been so worried about Lucius and Karyli's dots, that he hadn't even been looking to see if the coast was clear of anyone else.  
  
"Oh . . . Professor Snape . . ." Harry said, with foreboding as he, Ron, and Hermione turned to face Snape.  
  
"Why were you looking for Dumbledore, Potter?"  
  
"This book. It'll get Karyli in trouble if Lucius finds it on any student. Or at all, for that matter," Harry told Snape, reluctantly. There was a faint glimmer of hope in his heart - if Lucius was a Death-Eater, perhaps Snape would dislike him enough to help Karyli.  
  
"Let me see it." Snape took the book from Hermione and paged through it. He frowned. "How did you get this book, Granger?"  
  
"Karyli offered a permission slip for it. You can ask Madam Pince--"  
  
"_Allright,_ I believe you Granger. Why did she do this?"  
  
"For background reading on the two poisons she talked about earlier today. _Tristan's Ire_ and _Demon's Nectar_. She said the instructions for making the poisons were in Archaic runes, so she thought it was safe for us to read them. But she was wrong - the words aren't --"  
  
"I _understand_, Miss Granger. What _you_ don't understand is that this book isn't an ordinary book. Karyli didn't know this, because the book is ever-changing. The instructions for poison will constantly rearrange themselves in different languages. When Karyli proof-read it to make sure it was safe for you all, it was _scriptlocked._ Meaning, the whole book had once been entirely in Archaic runes. The only parts Dumbledore allowed to be translated for students' use was the history of the poisons and the ingredients. Then it was placed under _scriptlock_ to keep it that way.   
"Somebody has tampered with the spell and now _everything_ is translated. If Lucius gets a hold of this book the way it is now, Karyli will most certainly lose her job. You are all very fortunate," Snape sneered, "That you ran into me before Lucius found you. I will fix this book, give it back to you, and you three will go back and pretend you read nothing amiss. But the next time I hear you three lurking about with either the invisibility cloak or that map, Gryffindor will lose fifty points for each of you. Do you understand?"  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione nodded. Snape took out his wand and muttered something, waving it over the book. He handed it back to Hermione. "Now go. They're coming back."  
  
"I hope," Snape said, looking at Harry. "That you can lie to Lucius better than you've ever tried to lie to me, Potter." He smiled unpleasantly, and walked away as if nothing had happened.  
  
"I can't believe it . . . Snape . . . helping _us_ break the rules . . ."  
  
"Yes, it's a miracle, Ron. Now come on! We've got to get back inside the Common Room!"  
  
They made it inside, just as they could hear Lucius' voice coming around the corner.  
  
All three dashed to the Common Room where they'd left their homework and took deep breaths. Lucius crashed inside to find Harry and Ron writing essays and Hermione calmly reading the library book.  
  
"I assure you, Lucius, there is nothing in that book that is a danger. Everything that might be has never been translated from runes," Dumbledore said calmly as Lucius snatched Hermione's book away.  
  
Hermione put on a shocked expression. "What's wrong?" she asked, in false alarm.  
  
"Shut up, Granger," Lucius muttered, flipping through the pages. He scowled when he could find nothing amiss.  
  
"My, you look disappointed," Karyli said, amused. "Were you _expecting_ to find something wrong?" On her face was a very relieved smirk, but her tone was laced with suspicion.  
  
"It appears to be allright," Lucius finally forced himself to say. He handed the book back to Hermione and smiled thinly. "Sorry for disturbing you three at your work. Continue, please."  
  
Lucius stalked out of the Gryffindor Common Room, followed by Karyli and Dumbledore. Karyli looked back at Harry, Ron, and Hermione and smiled shakily, trying to tell them that everything would be all right now. She looked as if she was on the verge of tears.  
  
When the left, Hermione, Ron, and Harry all breathed enormous sighs of relief.  
  
"Can you _believe_ him?" cried Hermione, at length. Harry and Ron could tell she was furious. "That _horrible_ man!"  
  
"I know . . . trying to get his own daughter fired."  
  
"Draco will be happy she didn't get in trouble," said Harry. "But he'll be pretty angry at his dad, I should think."   
  
"Snape helped us for Draco, you know. We can't be caught like that again," Ron said, looking pointedly at Harry. "But I still can't belive it! Does he really hate Lucius enough to help _Gryffindors?_"  
  
"Either he hates Lucius or he has a crush on Professor Karyli," Harry replied. "Maybe it's both."  
  
"Oh ewwww!" Hermione cried. "Don't make me think about that!"  
  
After they finished their homework, the threesome cleared the table and staggered off to bed, looking forward to Karyli's class tomorrow on Friday - mainly because it would still be there when Friday came around.  
  


* * *

  
Lucius was positively frothing at the mouth when he passed by the Slytherin house. Dumbledore had warned him - had the _nerve_ to, in any case - not to harass Karyli again unless he had actual proof that she had put students in danger.  
  
Lucius glared back into the eyes of the portrait who sniffed disdainfully and left to talk with the portrait down the hall.  
  
"You can feed Dumbledore as much codswallop as you like, Karyli," he hissed to nobody in particular. "But you'll not touch my son with your sick 'Muggle-love.' I'll see to that."  
  
Lucius took out his wand, closed his eyes, and concentrated on Draco. The spell would be easier if Draco was right before him, but he didn't want anyone seeing what he was doing, much less his son. The portrait was still out of its frame, so Lucius was not seen by anyone. He smirked, satisfactorily, and strode to the main entrance of Hogwarts where his broom was waiting.  
  
In the Slytherin boy's dormitory, nestled under his bedcovers, Draco coughed and began to moan softly in his sleep as feverish nightmares took form.  
  


* * *

  
"Did you hear what happened?" Flint asked Draco at breakfast. Draco's eyes had dark circles under them and he coughed thickly before he could respond.  
  
"What?" he croaked, half-interested.  
  
"Draco, you look terrible. Are you allright?" Pansy fussed, sitting next to him.  
  
"Fine. What happened?" he repeated.  
  
"You're sister almost got the sack. Read this." Flint shoved the _Daily Prophet_ toward Draco who picked it up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. As he scanned the article on the front of the page, any former sign of grogginess vanished immediately.  
  
"Oh my _god!!!_" He cried after he'd read half the article. The article stated that his sister, Karyli Malfoy, had been accused by Lucius Malfoy of allowing a dangerous book to be leased out to Hermione Granger. Lucius had gone over to inspect the book which he believed to tell the students how to conjure deadly poison. This part wasn't incredibly shocking, as Draco had been there when Karyli had signed Granger's permission slip.  
  
What _was_ shocking was that the article went on to tell how Karyli faced a short term in Akzaban if Lucius caught her doing anything that had the potential to cause harm among the students. Lucius had convinced the Ministry that Karyli was a dangerous woman who'd run away from home, stealing enough money to buy herself a flying motorcycle. She'd worked in the Muggle world as a teacher and therefore, as Lucius was quoted, "Passed Dumbledore's ridiculously easy standards to become a Hogwarts teacher, not that she could tell one end of her wand from the other."  
  
Draco's eyes narrowed and his face grew paler than normal with concern. Lucius was not above causing trouble himself if that's what it took to get Karyli out of Hogwarts. Draco wondered what Lucius would do, and if he could possibly stop him from doing it.  
  
"I can't believe he'd do this to her," Draco muttered, then went into a sudden coughing fit that startled a few Slytherins about to sit down.  
  
"Allright, Draco?" Goyle asked, for an expression that barely passed as concerned. Not waiting for an answer, Goyle went back to snarfing his porridge.  
  
Draco's stomach cramped and he gave a slight moan. "Fine," he said, weakly.  
  
"Hey, Draco, Hermione's the whole reason your sister got into trouble," Flint whispered conspiratorially. "We should get revenge on her."  
  
"I thought you hated my sister's class, Flint," snapped Draco, "As you so eloquently whined to me last night."  
  
"Well, she's your sister, so I guess she's allright. What about Hermione, then? If she'd never gotten the book out in the first place . . ."  
  
"No," Draco answered, miserably clutching his abdomen. "Just leave it."  
  
"So you _are_ turning soft on them, aren't you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"_Admit_ it."  
  
"Shut up. I'm going to throw up if you don't leave me alone."  
  
"What's wrong with you?"  
  
"I don't know," Draco hissed.  
  
"Oh come on. I'm beginning to think you're no fun anymore, Draco."  
  
"Allright, _allright!!!_ Whatever you want, just leave me _alone._"  
  
"Whatever _I_ want?! It's _your_ revenge, Malfoy! She's _your_ sister!"  
  
Draco groaned and put his head down on the table, fighting the nausea that had suddenly gripped him. He felt so sick he wanted to cry. What was wrong with him? He'd been just fine last night . . .  
  
Nobody bothered him again after he put his head down. The bell rang and Draco got up, suprised and relieved to find that he was no longer on the verge of vomiting. He wondered grimly how long _that_ would last.  
  


* * *

  
"We'll start where we left off yesterday. But first, any questions about what we've talked about so far?"  
  
About twenty hands rose in the air.  
  
Karyli was surprised. "That many, huh? Yes, Pansy?"   
  
"What happened with the book? Did Mr. Malfoy --"  
  
"Hold on a minute!" Karyli cut her off. "Are you all raising your hands to talk about that stupid article in the newspaper this morning?" Everyone lowered their hands sheepishly. "Because I really don't want to waste time talking about it. Mr. Malfoy made a simple mistake, and you all know how reporters like to make a catastrophe out of simple mistakes. It's all politics - nothing to worry your heads about. Now, who has a question about the poisons we talked about yesterday?"  
  
Pansy raised her hand and Karyli called on her.  
  
"Are you going to give Granger detention for nearly getting you fired?"  
  
Karyli sighed patiently. "Did you hear what I just said, Pansy? No talking about that ruddy article _or_ what happened yesterday. It was a _simple_ misunderstanding fueled by the worry that I was giving you access to a book that had harmful potential. Who has a question about poisons?" Karyli asked again, struggling to maintain a calm face.  
  
Hermione raised her hand and Karyli sighed in relief. "Yes Hermione?"  
  
"What is the antidote to Demon's Nectar? I never got a chance to read it last night."  
  
"Oh that's right. I was about to tell you all about the antidote. Demon's Nectar, as you all found out yesterday, has the potential to turn a person inside out - literally - if it is in your system long enough. Does anyone remember how to tell you've taken the poison?" Draco raised his hand.   
  
Karyli called on him, then frowned in concern and walked closer to him.  
  
"Inflammation of the tongue and reddening eyes. Also, severe cramps --" Draco broke off coughing. Karyli placed a hand on his forehead. He was burning up fast.  
  
"Draco?"  
  
"I'm alright. Just a bit tired."  
  
"I think you should go to Madam Pomfrey."  
  
"No. I'll be fine right here." Draco told her. Truth was, he was afraid that if he got up, he'd vomit. He took a deep breath and sat hunched over his desk, resting his head in his hands for the remainder of Karyli's class.  
  
She explained that the antidote was a simple blend of arrowroot and pure spring water touched with the horn of a Unicorn.  
  
Draco listened, dozing off slightly as he heard her talk about the next poison, _Llairlyn's Broth_. The poison was not fatal; it made a person very weak. It could only kill by an extreme overdose (you'd have to drink two large bottles of it straight) and was one of the most gentlest deaths by far. The problem was, the poison's antidote could kill you by accelerating the blood in your veins and making your heart beat faster and faster until it finally burst. The antidote had to be brewed _just right_ and given to the victim in _just the right amount_ or it was as good as poison.  
  
This could not be demonstrated efficiently on the plant, so Karyli lectured on it and asked them to take notes for personal review. She apologized if it was boring, and promised they would do something fun on Tuesday.  
  
The bell rang and the students made their way to their classes.  
  
Draco reluctantly opened his silver eyes and got up.  
  
"Come on, Draco. I'll walk you to the hospital wing," Karyli said, putting an arm around her younger brother's shoulders.  
  
They walked outside and arrived right at the start of what looked to be starting out as a nasty fight.  
  
"So, Granger, you went running to Dumbledore about the book did you? Thought you'd get Malfoy's sister fired?" Flint was hissing at Hermione. Ron and Harry flanked her protectively as the Slytherins surrounded them. Karyli scowled and cleared her throat.  
  
Flint whipped around.   
  
"M-Miss Karyli, ah, um . . ."  
  
"What's going on here?" Karyli asked in a deadly tone.  
  
"N-nothing."  
  
"Go to your classes. If I hear about you harrassing anyone about what happened, it'll be detention and twenty points from your house. Do you understand, Flint?"  
  
Flint glared. "You wouldn't take points," he sneered, "From Draco's own house. You're his sister."  
  
"I will not take points, if you do not try to lose them. You, so far, have been trying _very_ hard. I advise you not to keep it up."  
  
The Slytherin and the Professor exchanged cold glares.  
  
"Draco, tell her about Granger. Cause your sister doesn't seem to understand that 'Mudbloods' aren't supposed to be favored by Malfoys."  
  
Karyli trembled with rage and Flint knew he had struck a nerve. She remained silent, however badly Draco knew she wanted to tell Flint off.  
  
"Aren't taking any points from Slytherin, then, are we?"  
  
"I will not punish an entire house for a stupid remark of yours, Marcus Flint. You are deliberately trying to bait me into removing points with no regard whatsoever of how the rest of your fellow Slytherins earned them. Very selfish of you. I think a week of detention should remedy that."  
  
Flint sneered at her and walked to his class. The rest of the Slytherins broke apart, some glaring at Karyli, but most looked at her with a sort of relieved admiration.  
  
Hermione gasped and her eyes flew wide. Harry and Ron started forward. Alarmed at their reactions, Karyli was about to ask what was the matter when she heard Draco groaning behind her.  
  
She turned around and knelt down next to him. He was shivering and rocking back and forth as cramps seized him. "Harry, Ron, go to class. Hermione, go ahead of me to the Hospital Wing and inform Madame Pomfrey of this." Hermione took off in a fast walk and with many backward glances, Harry and Ron made their way to class with Professor Binns.  
  
Karyli coaxed Draco into uncurling his body and lifted him. Draco rested his head against his shoulder and focused on swallowing his nausea. Another cramp seized him and he cried out sharply, twisting in Karyli's arms.  
  
"No, no, shhh. Hold still, Draco."  
  
"Perhaps you should conjure up a stretcher," suggested a portrait as she passed it by.  
  
"No, carry me . . ." Draco begged her, feverishly. Karyli's heart ached. He sounded so much like the child she'd been forced to leave behind . . .  
  
Karyli winced as she felt Draco's face pressed against her collarbone. His skin was really burning. Karyli fought back a sob. She hated being helpless, but not nearly as much as she hated seeing Draco suffer.   
  


* * *

  
Madam Pomfrey checked Draco's pulse and sighed. It appeared Draco's ailing came from a normal virus, despite Karyli's insistence that she check for any dark magic upon him.  
  
Pomfrey could find nothing wrong with Draco that some simple tonic and bed rest couldn't fix. This relieved Karyli, but she was still wary about how Draco had recieved this virus. It was almost obvious by the look on her face who she blamed.  
  
"How could he?" she muttered, brushing a lock of Draco's hair out of his eyes. He cried out softly and turned toward her to lie on his side, eyes squeezed shut in pain.  
  
"Karyli . . . Karyli?" he called out.  
  
"Shhh, it's okay. I'm here." She reached out, gently stroking his back with her fingertips.  
  
Draco whimpered and fell silent.  
  
Karyli didn't remember falling asleep in the chair, but she must have, because the rays of the rising sun were streaming through the window above Draco's bed when she opened her eyes again.  
  
"I'll be collecting him now, if you don't mind, Madame Pomfrey," a voice drawled from outside of the room.  
  
Karyli's eyes widened and she stood up as Lucius entered the room.  
  
"You are not taking him anywhere," she snapped at him.  
  
"He is my son, _Professor_," he said mockingly. "And he would do better to recover from his fever at home. Would you deny him that much just so you two can 'catch up'?"  
  
"You did something to him, didn't you? You made him sick to get him away from me."  
  
"Now, now, Karyli. Tsk tsk, and just two nights ago you were scolding me for making baseless accusations," Lucius smiled at her benevolently. Karyli wondered how hard it was for him to force that smile. Then it occured to her that it probably wasn't forced at all.  
  
She couldn't stop Lucius from taking Draco home and he knew it. She didn't have the slightest shred of evidence against Lucius that would keep Draco here where he was safe. Karyli fought back a cry of anguish as she watched Lucius pick his son up and carry him away, throwing a coldly triumphant smirk over his shoulder.  
  
When he had left, Karyli sank into the chair by the now-empty bed and buried her face in her hands.  
  


* * *

  
"Yes, Master Malfoy?" A servant approached Lucius' desk back at the Malfoy Manor after being summoned. "How can I be of service?"   
  
Lucius folded the section of the 'Daily Prophet' and set it down. While the servant watched, Lucius opened a drawer in the desk and took out a small wad of black leather.   
  
"It appears that my son is lacking discipline, Antony. I require of you to give him some with this when he awakens." Lucius handed Antony the folded belt. Antony took it and nodded curtly. He'd done this once before; he knew what to do from experience.  
  
"How many, sir?"  
  
"Don't stop until I tell you to. Understood? And don't go too easy on him either."  
  
"As you wish, sir."  
  


* * *

  
Draco stirred and opened his eyes to find himself back in his room under his bedcovers. Overall, he was feeling better.  
  
Draco swallowed nervously. His father was going to be furious with him. Probably give him a lecture about how worthless his sister was. But then again, Draco had never openly disobeyed his father before -- not in front of Dumbledore. He shuddered. Lucius would ground him, most likely. Or take his broomstick away. Maybe even send him to bed without supper. Whatever his punishment was, it would be unpleasant, but Draco knew he could handle it. All that was important was behaving until his father forgave him and sent him back to Hogwarts.  
  
If he argued or yelled back at his father, he knew he'd never get to go back. Lucius would keep him home until he was satisfied that Draco hated his sister and would go about being himself again - the boy who loved his father without question.  
  
A servant entered the room and stopped before him. "Young Master Malfoy. I see you're awake. Your father sent me."  
  
Draco swallowed apprehensively. Father had never sent a servant to tell him what his punishment was. He'd always stormed into Draco's room himself to deliver the verdict.  
  
The servant walked over to him. Draco had to look up as the man was taller than he was. Draco jerked back reflexively as the man reached out for him, but didn't get far as the bed was behind him. The man began to disrobe Draco despite the latter's squirming protest. When his fingers took hold of the elastic waistband on Draco's pajama bottoms, Draco batted the servant's hands away.  
  
"What are you doing?" he demanded, silver eyes glaring with indignance.  
  
"What your father ordered me to. Stand still. If you struggle with me, I'll have to put you in body-bind."  
  
Draco held still obligingly even as he felt himself being stripped completely from the waist down. He was afraid - very afraid - that he knew exactly what was going to be his punishment. He prayed he was wrong. _That_ hadn't happened to him since before he'd started his first year at Hogwarts.  
  
"Face the wall."   
  
Draco was frozen, torn between defying his father and subjecting his body to a servant's blows. Neither choice was very appealing. The servant made it easy for him.  
  
Antony forced Draco to put his hands on the wall and took out a wand. "_Grippatus,_" he muttered, touching the wand to each hand. Draco instinctively tried to lower his hands and found that they were stuck to the wall - he'd rip the skin off his palms if he tried to break away.  
  
Now he was sure of what was going to happen, and his insides turned cold when he saw Antony unfold the belt that was suddenly in his hand.   
  
"Oh please . . ." Draco whimpered under his breath, and a shiver ran down his spine. "How many?" he asked numbly.  
  
"That depends on how soon your father allows me to stop."  
  
After that, no more was spoken. Draco forced himself to stop shaking and stood rigidly, waiting for the first blow to come.  
  


* * *

  
"I'm not going to let him hurt you, Draco. I'll find a way to stop him. I promise," Karyli whispered softly through the fingers that still covered her face.  
  
Snape watched her pretend to brush hair out of her eyes while he knew she was brushing tears away instead and walked over to sit next to her at the teacher's table.  
  
"Karyli?" he asked softly.  
  
"Don't talk to me right now, please."  
  
Snape sighed. She was just like her brother. Draco never was one to approach when he was upset. Snape had learned that when he'd come across Draco crying softly in a shadowed corridor during his second term at Hogwarts. He'd been jeered at by a few fellow Slytherins for the fact that his father'd had to buy Draco's position on the team, and even _then_ he'd managed to lose to Gryffindor.  
  
"What are you planning, Karyli?" he asked her. He knew from experience with Draco that Karyli wasn't going to take this lying down. It had been Snape himself who'd talked Draco out of casting several rather nasty spells on Harry Potter in the past four years, saving Draco from certain expulsion.  
  
Now he was concerned for Karyli. He knew by those determined silver eyes that she was up to something reckless.  
  
"I don't know yet," She answered, bitterly. "I'm actually thinking of taking my motorcycle over there, busting a window open, and making a daring rescue. It's stupid and Lucius will have a sure case to send me to Akzaban for. But it'll get Draco out of harm's way."  
  
"For how long? Where will Draco go if you end up in prison? Back to his father's for the summer."   
  
"He'll end up at his father's anyway, no matter where I am. I can't stop it. He's too powerful. Draco's only chance is if he gives into that . . . that _demon_ who calls himself our father. Lucius can think he's got Draco under his thumb again and send him back here. But . . . how much is he going to have to destroy Draco before he's satisfied? That's what scares me."  
  
"Don't give up. We'll think of something."  
  
"We?" Karyli looked at Snape in surprise.  
  
Snape smiled cryptically in response and put an arm around her shoulders. Karyli smiled back, feeling her heart lose some of the leaden sorrow that was weighing it down. Maybe there _was_ a way to save Draco. _There had to be,_ she told herself. They'd find it. With luck.  
  
  
  


**To Be Continued**

  
  
  
  
  
_Disclaimer: All characters save for Karyli and Antony belong to J.K. Rowling. ^_^_


	4. Serves Him Right 4

  
  
"Master Malfoy?"  
  
Draco groaned softly and stirred, but did not wake. "Master Malfoy?" the voice piped up again, this time jarring him from his dreams.  
  
Lying on his stomach, he pushed himself up with his arms and nearly cried aloud at the pain. The welts crossing his body stung anew with his movement. Draco, half-awake, struggled to remember how he'd gotten them.  
  
"Malfoy, sir, your father wishes to speak with you when you are ready." The voice was coming from his bed, right beside him. Draco shook his head and when his vision cleared, he found himself looking into a pair of huge green eyes. The house-elf reached over and timidly dabbed his forehead with a wet cloth as if afraid Draco would bite his hand.  
  
With a grimace, Draco irritably waved the house-elf away, and brought his legs underneath him. He stayed that way for a minute or two, steeling himself for the pain he knew waited in store - from both dressing and walking down the corridor from his room to his father's study.  
  
Antony had really let him have it. Draco had been supported only by his magically bonded grip on the wall by the time his father had come to watch. By the time Lucius had finally allowed Antony to stop, the last remaining shred of Draco's resolve had disappeared, and he had become a child again, sobbing for his father's forgiveness.  
  
Antony had lifted him easily and Draco remembered being half-walked, half-carried to his bed. After that, sleep had stolen over his tired, tortured body and he'd known no more.  
  
"Master Malfoy?" the house-elf prompted, trembling.  
  
"Tell father I'll be before him shortly," Draco told the house-elf, face devoid of any emotion.  
  
The house-elf jumped down from the bed and bowed to Draco before scurrying away.  
  
Draco closed his eyes tightly and lowered himself from the bed. He staggered to his wardrobe and forced himself to pull his clothes on, although the fabric chafed across his welts. He whimpered as he pulled his black pants on; Antony had focused the belt's swipes mainly on his lower torso and especially the back of his legs. Draco clasped his black robes shut with a silver pendant and started out the door to his bedroom.  
  
He leaned for a moment against the frame of the doorway. Swallowing hard and trying to ignore the pain, he forced himself to stand up straight and kept walking.  
  


* * *

  
The gypsy moths flew around her in dancing circles, their white and cream-colored wings softly reflecting the moon's light. She laughed and let them fly around her, delighted. They bobbed and darted teasingly from her reaching hands and just barely escaped her nimble fingers.  
  
She saw her brother laughing beside her then. He reached out to the winged creatures and they became emboldened. One alighted in his hands and he held it gently. He whispered something to it - what, she could not hear. She leaned closer to hear him . . .   
  
"Karylie?" someone's voice called gently.  
  
She sat up bewildered, and looked all about until she recognized her surroundings. The Hogwarts' dungeon? What was she still doing here? Someone stood beside her and she looked up.  
  
"Snape?"  
  
"You slept well, I hope?"  
  
Karylie rubbed the sleep from her eyes and got up from the student's desk. Embarrassed, she closed the book she'd been resting her head on and covered a yawn.  
  
"I can't believe I fell asleep like that. I don't know what happened . . ."  
  
"Have come across anything you can do for Draco?" Snape asked hopefully.  
  
"No . . . nothing that Lucius can't trace back to me and throw me in Akzaban for, anyway. Snape, what can I do? I can't take Draco back to Hogwarts until Lucius is ready to send him back, and that probably won't be until he manages to get rid of me," Karylie sighed. "There has to be something I can do . . . even I can't take Draco back here . . . there must be _something_. . ."  
  
"Did you dream of him?"  
  
"Y-yes . . . how do you know?"  
  
"Because the potion I slipped in your pumpkin juice last night was supposed to have that effect," Snape said, with a slight smile on his lips.  
  
Karylie's mouth dropped and she shot Snape a look that could kill. "_You_ made me fall asleep? I can't believe you! You wasted a whole night for me to find something to help him and --"  
  
Something about Snape's smile made Karylie stop her angry ranting. She fell silent for a brief moment then, "Well, why didn't you tell me you did that anyway?"  
  
"Dream potions don't work for people expecting dreams, Karylie. I don't supposed they covered that fact in your home-tutoring?"  
  
"No," Karylie admitted. "Allright. I forgive you 'cause you meant well. But I didn't come across any solution in my dreams."  
  
"Perhaps you are mistaken. What did you dream about?"  
  
"Moths. And my brother. We were in this meadow . . . one of them landed in his hand and he was talking to it . . ." Karylie broke off and Snape saw clearly behind her silver eyes that her mind was already beginning to formulate these seemingly useless ideas into a plan.  
  
"By George, I think I've got it . . ."  
  
"By George who? What?" Snape repeated, confused.   
  
"Oh, a Muggles saying, nevermind it. I have to see Dumbledore. Thank you for everything." Karylie said, eyes bright with hope. She smiled widely and rushed out the door. Two seconds later, she rushed back in and hugged Snape. Snape sputtered, bewildered, not quite knowing what to say. Snape watched as Karylie fairly sprinted down the hall to Dumbledore's office and a smile formed on his lips.  
  
Karylie was like her brother in many ways, but she definitely put a new spin on the name Malfoy.  
  


* * *

  
"Draco," his father greeted him, looking up from _The Daily Prophet._  
  
His voice sounded kinder today, than it had yesterday, and Draco felt a thin needle of hope prick his heart.  
  
"Sit down," Lucius ordered. Draco carefully lowered himself into the wooden chair before Lucius' desk and forced himself not to wince. "Good. I see you are handling yourself better than you did yesterday."  
  
Draco flushed in embarrassment. "Father, I'm sorry--" he started, much to his surprise. Draco realized then that the beating he had suffered had turned any previous anger at his father into guilt, and any hatred had poured out of his body along with his pleas for mercy. _No, this can't be . . . I can't let him do this to me . . ._ Draco thought defiantly. As a scowl formed on his lips, Lucius' eyes narrowed and Draco shuddered and looked down, defeated by his fear.  
  
"Doubtless, you are wondering why Karylie is no longer part of this family. Is that so?"  
  
"Yes, Father."  
  
"You deserve to know the truth. I should have told you of it long before, only I wanted to spare you the shame of it. Look at me, Draco." Draco obligingly lifted his head and gazed back into his father's storm-colored eyes. "Karylie not only endangered the Malfoy lineage by going after a certain young man with all the tricks of an ill-bred slut---"  
  
Draco's fists clenched so hard, his knuckles began to turn white. He didn't realize he was glaring until his father glared in return. Fear once again lanced through his heart, and he lowered his eyes submissively.  
  
"Shall I continue?" Lucius asked, icily.  
  
"Yes, Father," Draco answered miserably.  
  
"She also made me look like a fool in front of Lord Voldemort by her idiotic actions," Lucius spat. "Even then, she cared nothing for the fact that she was pure-blood. She developed an interest in Muggle affairs and Muggle past-times that rivaled even that idiotic pauper Weasley. Had I known she was attempting to infect you with her disgusting Muggle-love as well --"  
  
"She wasn't!" Draco burst out. "I don't care about Muggle-things at all!"  
  
"Yes. Your mother and I managed to purge those filthy ideas out of your head after Karylie's departure. I shall continue now, without further interruption."  
  
Draco swallowed and his fingers curled under the edge of the chair, fingernails picking nervously at the small pocks on the wooden surface.  
  
"Karylie was disobedient even to the last. The final straw was her idiotic release of one of Voldemorts' prisoners from the cells below the Manor. We had finally captured Dumbledore . . . Voldemort had him chained here, wanting first to see what the extent of the old fool's powers were. Hearing that Dumbledore had powers to rival his own, he wanted to see what Dumbledore could do . . . or perhaps what he _would_ do to free himself. Karylie ruined everything, including the Dark Lord's chance to rid himself of the only wizard he'd ever feared." Lucius' face was livid, and although Draco was outraged at his harsh words about Karylie, the boy knew better than to show it.  
  
"She claimed to me later," Lucius sneered, "That she'd heard a beautiful music coming from the dungeon and walked down to investigate. She had the sense, at the very least, not to take you with her - for the dungeons were forbidden to you both. She disobeyed my specific orders, and walked toward the music. Pheonix song, it was, and Dumbledore had been recreating it, perhaps to while away his boredom. Stupid fool that he was, he was wasting his magic and his time to escape before Voldemort came to claim his life.  
  
"She stopped before him and asked why he was down there. Dumbeldore lied to her. He said he was a guest who'd come over for tea and he'd wanted to see the dungeons. Mistakenly, he'd gotten too close to the magic shackles binding his wrists and had been stuck there for quite a while. A stupid story, but even stupider was Karylie for believing it."  
  
"Could Dumbledore have bewitched her?" Draco ventured cautiously.  
  
"No. He did not . . . although that's what I hoped had been the case. He easily could have, but when I looked into her eyes . . . I saw that her stupidity and gullibility had served Dumbledore better than any spell could have. You were there when I confronted her, Draco, although you must barely remember anything of that night, save for the whipping you recieved for your disobedience. She was dancing with you, laughing, as if nothing in the world were wrong. As if I hadn't been spending the last four hours of that day, groveling before Voldemort, suffering curse upon curse of his wrath, all to spare her wretched life. He agreed, on account that I would punish her myself.  
  
"You did not hear her screams, Draco, over your own cries of pain. If you had known what Voldemort put me through . . . you would have taken delight in them as I did, while she suffered the Crucatius Curse."  
  
Every inch of Draco's body was shuddering - not in fear. In rage. He stood up, eyes smoldering. "She was only fifteen, Father . . . and you . . ." was all Draco managed to choke out, before Lucius backhanded the boy viciously.  
  
Draco sprawled across the floor, landing on his back and crying out in agony.  
  
"Do you understand any of what I have said?! She _betrayed_ me, Draco! If she were not my daughter, she would have suffered death! I turned her from the Manor not only to save her life, but to save _you!_"  
  
"She - she didn't know what Voldemort wanted with Dumbledore!" Draco yelled back. "But y-you beat her and cursed her for a accident! A _stupid_ accident, but an accident nonetheless!"  
  
Lucius snarled and for a terrifying moment, Draco thought he was about to be beaten again. With a horrible scream of rage, Lucius seized an empty glass on his desk and flung it at the wall. It crashed, sending shards of glass scattering everywhere. Lucius took several deep breaths to calm himself down. Draco didn't dare move, not wanting his father's attention on him.  
  
"Accident or no," Lucius rasped finally, "That girl has caused me more suffering and more shame than Potter himself. You, Draco . . . you were my success. You have never induced Voldemort's wrath upon me, and for that, I was grateful and did not discipline you as harshly as I might have for your antics. Have you ever felt the Crucatius Curse, Draco?"  
  
"N-no, Father . . ." Draco stammered, afraid.  
  
"That is because you've never earned it. And be grateful to me. I have been far easier on you than any Malfoy has ever been on me, or on my father before me. You are my only child, Draco . . . and you have no idea how comforting those words are to me."  
  
They stared at each other for a long time, father and son. Lucius was about to say more, but then he cursed and looked down at his arm. Voldemort was calling him.  
  
"I must go, Draco. You will return to Hogwarts when you hear the truth about what she is and how very much she owes me." Lucius apparated out of his office, leaving Draco gasping on the carpeted floor. He choked and began to sob. He didn't even know why he was crying; he normally never cried. A sharp twinge in his back from laying on his welts suddenly turned into a spreading inferno. Draco twisted around and got shakily to his feet.  
  
"You," he called weakly to a passing house-elf in the hall outside. He scurried to Draco immediately, bowing madly. Normally, such a sight would make him laugh. How could anyone be so faithful to somebody who constantly hurt him for the slightest offense? Draco would normally kick the house-elf through the doorway - they really were disgusting creatures, despite their usefulness. But for the first time, he realized how much he had in common with the miserable creature cringing before him. Father had Draco whipped, but Draco still obeyed without question. Father beat the house-elves, and they obeyed without complaint. Draco made no move to hurt the house-elf and instead staggered past it.  
  
Karylie's unheard screams were echoing in his head and he suddenly leaned against the desk to support his legs.  
  
"Clean up the glass," he ordered, over his shoulder. "And tell no-one to bother me for the rest of the day," Draco said numbly. The house-elf, grateful Draco hadn't attempted to kick him to the other side of the Manor yet, immediately began the task.  
  
When Draco could bring himself to walk, he left the room.  
  


* * *

  
"A registered Animagus? How intriguing . . ." Dumbledore murmured thoughtfully. "But tell me again, how can that form out of any other serve you? You'd be at the mercy of the winds."  
  
"Yes, but I'd be small enough to sneak in and back out again undetected. It would do both of us good if I could visit Draco."  
  
"Hmm, yes I most certainly agree, my dear. The Manor is quite a bit drafty and lonesome - well from one of my experiences anyway. Speaking of which, is that why you've told me all this? To my recollection, I do owe you a favor or two at the very least." Dumbledore said, winking at her.  
  
Karylie shook her head. "You do not owe me anything. All I did was release an overcurious guest from his predicament, and only later did I realize what exactly I had done. I must stress that you owe me nothing, Dumbledore."  
  
"We've been through this conversation before, have we then? Yes, yes. I remember it now . . . very well, dear. I can see you're in a hurry to set off your plan. But whether you saved me or not, I am gladly at your service. Now, what do you need of me?"  
  
"Your advice. Do you think it will work? Is there anything I haven't thought of?"  
  
"Two things, I must confess, were not entirely explained to me. How do you plan on getting to the Manor? I daresay, they'll hear that motorcycle of yours a mile away."  
  
"Well . . . I intend on flying there in my Animagus form, to speak the truth."  
  
Dumbledore's eyebrows raised in surprise. "But the storm clouds and the wind -- no, Karylie, that's too dangerous."  
  
"What other option do I have? My apparating skills are horrendous, and my broomstick-flying is half-hazard; you remember when I flew straight into the Whomping Willow my first year?"  
  
Dumbledore chuckled. "Madame Pomfrey had her hands full, I must admit."  
  
"Three years at Hogwarts taught me much, but the only classes I really excelled in were McGonagall's and Snape's. And then I was home-schooled for one year, all because of that dreadful rumor going about that I was Remus' boyfriend."  
  
"Weren't you?" Dumbledore asked, surprised.  
  
"I admit I had a crush on him, but really! We were just friends . . ." Karylie began to argue. "And he was a year older than me and in Gryffindor while I was in Slytherin. Another reason it was so scandalous. My father made it ten times worse when he pulled me out; it strengthened the rumor ten times over. Now I find even _you_ believed it."  
  
"My dear," Dumbledore said, smiling, "I didn't hear any rumors. My ears were rather muffled most of that year by my hat."  
  
Karylie scoffed good-naturedly. "A likely story. Where did you get the idea?"  
  
"Were you removing that speck of pudding from his lips with your own? If that was the case, perhaps I'm mistaken about what I thought I saw you two doing outside of the Gryffindor dormitories after the Halloween feast."  
  
Karylie felt a pink tinge come into her cheeks. "I - I . . . well, enough of this nonsense! What can I do to get to the Manor undetected?"  
  
"Perhaps an owl?" Dumbledore suggested, moving right along with the sudden subject change.  
  
"That's brilliant . . . but don't owls eat moths?" she asked, nervously.  
  
"Yes. All the time. Unless they're intelligent enough to know better in cases like these. May I suggest Harry Potter's owl? She's most well-trained; she'll listen to anything the boy says."  
  
"Allright . . . are you sure?"  
  
"If you like, I could make you a particularily bad tasting moth," Dumbledore offered. Karylie laughed, forgetting her anxiety for the moment.  
  
"No thank you, Dumbledore. I'll trust Harry's owl as long as she lines her belly with a couple of fat mice before we fly off together."  
  


* * *

  
Harry agreed on lending Karylie his owl and when she arrived to meet him in the Owlrey, she found Hermione and Ron waiting there as well.  
  
"You three are inseparable, aren't you?" she teased with a grin.  
  
Ron and Harry smiled back, but Hermione wrung her hands.  
  
"Be careful! Oh Harry, are you sure Hedwig's not going to eat her?"  
  
"Perhaps I should've have taken Dumbledore's offer to make me taste bad," Karylie joked and the two boys laughed. Hermione gave a small smile, but Karylie could tell she was nervous.   
  
"Are you sure you want to do this, Professor Karylie?"  
  
Karylie gently took Hermione's hands in her own. "Miss Granger, I know I'm about to do a dangerous thing. But it would make me feel a lot better if I had your confidence. It's something I simply must do."  
  
Hermione sighed. "Good luck then." Hermione hugged her and stepped back as Karylie began her transformation.  
  
"And remember," Hermione cried after the owl as Hedwig flew off with the gypsy moth clinging to her tufted white chest with all six slender legs, "_Don't you dare eat any moths!!!_"  
  


* * *

  
Draco opened his bedroom window, hoping to get some cool air in. It was almost dusk and Lucius had not returned yet. Draco had been alone all day in his room. He didn't want to do anything or see anyone.  
  
He crawled up on his bed and laid on his chest, burying his face in his pillow. He felt numb inside and didn't know what to make of anything his father had told him. Were they lies? Were they the truth?  
  
His welts still burned and chafed with every careless motion and Draco winced as he tried to get into a more comfortable position on the bed. He couldn't remember a time when he'd been whipped so hard . . . sometimes he got the back of his father's hand for a smart remark, but he only remembered one other beating in which he'd gotten the belt.  
  
It had happened two years before he'd started at Hogwarts - he was ten and his father was explaining to him about Voldemort. Draco had been bored stiff.  
  
His father went on about 'mudbloods' then and this had suddenly piqued Draco's interest.  
  
"But Father," he remembered saying, "Voldemort's a mudblood too, isn't he?"  
  
Draco had never seen his father move so fast in his life. Before he knew what was happening, Draco was sprawled on the floor and so great was his surprise that the pain didn't set in until the tenth lash or so fell upon his body. That's when he started crying, and incidentally, that's when he learned that a Malfoy is not supposed to cry.  
  
His father had seen him off to bed and left without a word of comfort, but he'd come back later to explain to Draco that he had done something almost unforgivable, and if he ever repeated it, horrible things would happen to him. Of course, Draco had believed him without any further assistance from his father's belt.  
  
Draco sighed and closed his eyes, tired. He did not realize he had fallen asleep until a clap of thunder woke him an hour later. He opened his eyes groggily and smelled rain. Draco glanced over at his window to see how thickly the drops were falling just in time to see a white gypsy moth flutter inside.  
  
Karylie had loved gypsy moths and once she had caught one in her hands to show Draco what they looked like close up. Aside from the delicate powdery wings, Draco remembered the small creature's curling antennae, pretty black eyes, and a soft white mane coating it's body.  
  
The moth was fluttering towards him now, and Draco reached a hand out to let it land in his palm. But instead of landing anywhere, it did a most uncommon thing for a moth to do; it started glowing. Draco sat bolt upright, forgetting about his welts, which proved to be a very big mistake.  
  
He gasped and laid back down again hurriedly, but to no avail, the burning swept all along his body, distracting him from whatever the moth was doing.  
  
A flash of lightning filled the room with light and Draco looked away. He blinked to get rid of the spots before his eyes. A hand came to rest gently on his shoulder. Draco jumped in shock, scrambled backwards and quite accidentally tumbled off the bed.  
  
"Draco, are you allright? I didn't mean to scare you so," Karylie's voice whispered, in alarm. She glided around the bed and helped Draco to his feet, noticing with concern that his face was tight with pain.  
  
"What happened to you?" she demanded. "What did he do?"  
  
Draco suddenly found himself wanting to ask Karylie all types of questions, and he was incredibly annoyed because of this. He looked up at Karylie, and it all suddenly caved in on him . . . the beating he had suffered, hearing her screams of agony in his head, his Father's hatred . . . _Malfoy's aren't supposed to cry, stupid,_ a voice sneered at him. Draco frankly didn't know whether the voice was imagined or real, but he suddenly didn't care when he felt Karylie's arms wrap around him, hugging him close.  
  
"Where's Lucius?" Karylie asked, at length.  
  
"He apparated from his office . . . Voldemort called him for something. Karylie . . . why did he . . ." Draco choked on a sob and his throat was too dry to swallow.  
  
"Why did he what?" Karylie prompted gently, stroking his hair.  
  
"Use the Crucatius Curse on you . . . how could he . . ."  
  
"Oh Draco . . . he told you . . ." Karylie's voice was very faint. "It didn't hurt that bad," she lied weakly.  
  
"Karylie . . . he was smiling when he told me . . . why does he hate you? It can't just be about Dumbledore . . . not even combined with you liking Muggles or disobeying you . . . he can't have done _that_ to you and _enjoyed_ it just because . . . what else, Karylie, what else? Tell me . . . please?" Draco looked up at her, his eyes betraying such hurt and bewilderment that Karylie's own eyes brimmed over with tears.  
  
"Draco . . ." she whispered, helplessly. How could she begin to tell him that his father, the man whom he'd loved and admired all his life, was dark and cruel and cared more about his reputation than his own son and daughter? Cared more for achieving as much power as Voldemort chose to grant him than either of them? It was too much for Karylie to bear. And yet, it was something Draco had to know, painful as it would be for him.  
  
A chill of horror swept down her spine as she caressed the back of Draco's neck. There was something sticky. She lightly ran her fingers between his shoulderblades and he moaned and twisted away in response.  
  
"Did he beat you?" Karylie asked, her voice deadly calm.  
  
"Yes. It's allright, it doesn't hurt."  
  
"I'm sure it doesn't," she said, bitterly. "Malfoy's aren't supposed to admit they're in pain. Rule number something."  
  
Karylie and Draco jumped startled at a particularily loud clap of thunder. "Draco, I'll come back a little later. I'm nervous about your father apparating into this room . . . how long has he been gone now?"  
  
"About five hours, I think."  
  
"Oh my goodness, he could be back any minute . . . any second really . . ."  
  
"You better go," Draco said, alarmed.  
  
"I'll be back later tonight. In the meantime, I want you to take a nice hot bath with some jewelflower and columbine to help with the healing. It never fails."  
  
Draco was afraid he knew how Karylie had found this out. She kissed him on the forehead and in the next instant, a white moth fluttered out the window and disappeared into the shadow of a nearby tree.  
  


* * *

  
Draco gingerly lifted himself out of the bathtub and began to dry off with a towel. The hot water had done much to soothe him, although at first contact, Draco had hissed at the initial sting caused by the herbs in the water.  
  
He struggled into his pajamas, trying to be careful not to bump or agitate his mercifully neutral welts. Just before he walked outside, he heard voices; his father and his mother. They were arguing about him, from what he could hear.  
  
Curious, Draco put his ear against the door to listen.  
  
"The boy needs to go back to school! His grades are low enough. I will not stand to see him taking a vacation just because Karylie is in the same building. Really, Lucius, the whole thing is getting out of hand," Narcissa Malfoy was sniping.   
  
"I will not condone Draco being taught by that _mistake_ of a witch," came Lucius' cold reply.  
  
"Lucius--"  
  
"I rescued him from following in her footsteps; from becoming a _failure._ He will not be a mistake, like she was. With Draco, I'll show her what she could have been if she had tried to be as faithful to me as a daughter should be to her father."  
  
"Well, you're overlooking one thing. Draco loves her. He always has, and I don't think anything you can tell him will turn the boy away from her. She's the only person who's ever defied you, Lucius, within your own home. And the fact that she's family is even more impressive; Draco's been taught all his life to respect family and the Malfoy name. You can't all of a sudden tell the boy to do something different and expect him to snap to it."  
  
"Draco is too afraid to disobey me," Lucius scoffed. "And he knows what to expect the next time he does."  
  
"Yes, very well, husband. But don't be too surprised if it blows up in your face like a squib's home-made wand."  
  
"And what exactly do you mean by that?!" Lucius fairly roared.  
  
"Draco won't believe lies, not even from you. Karylie's shown him a kinder hand than you have. She's won respect from him, and try as you might, you can't root it out of him, I'm afraid."  
  
"I can beat it out of him," Lucius said, darkly, and Draco shuddered behind the door.  
  
"You can try," Narcissa replied grimly and walked away. Draco heard her footsteps, quick and soft, walking down the hall. He heard his father's heavy footsteps head in a different direction, treading much slower than his mother's. When at last he heard nothing, Draco opened the door and crept down the hall to his room.  
  


* * *

  
Draco hopped up on his bed and summoned a book from the shelf nearby. It floated over to him and landed in his lap. Draco arranged himself into a comfortable position on his side and opened the book.   
  
His room had turned chilly due to the rainstorm outside, so he had ringed for a house-elf to build up a fire in the fireplace located ten feet from the foot of his bed. The fire was the only light in the room, but it allowed him enough to read his book. Occasionally, he glanced toward the window, searching for Karylie. No sign of a white moth anywhere outside . . . it had been two hours and it was approaching eleven o'clock, the time he usually drifted off to sleep.  
  
"It's amazing what you think you can get away with when I'm not home, Draco."  
  
Draco started and sat up to see his father standing before the fire. The suddeness of his appearance startled Draco; he must have apparated.  
  
"I had a chat with one of the portraits outside of your room. It appears you had some company."  
  
Draco swallowed hard.  
  
"No sir," he lied. "I think the portrait must have been hearing things."  
  
"I don't appreciate you lying to me, Draco." Lucius' back was to the window . . . Draco fervently prayed no white moths would be fluttering in any time soon.  
  
"Who was here?" demanded Lucius. "Karylie?"  
  
"No."  
  
"It _was_ her!" Lucius snarled, gripping Draco's face, hard. "Don't lie to me!" The firelight highlighted Lucius' normally handsome face all wrong; his eyes appeared to be starting from his head, his cheekbones looked as if they were sinking into his face, and his skin was sallow.  
  
Draco tried to get away from Lucius' painful grip on his jawbone and as his eyes shifted he stiffened in horror.  
  
The gypsy moth was back.  
  
Quick as a tiger, Lucius reached his free hand out and his fist closed tightly around the moth's body. Draco cried aloud. When Lucius opened his fist again, Draco's heart shattered. He knew it was all over.  
  
"Would this, by any chance, be your sister?" Lucius asked, mockingly, showing his open palm to Draco. The moth lay crumpled, one wing fluttering brokenly. Eyes filled with tears, Draco reached out a shaking hand and with one finger, tenderly stroked the moth's wing.  
  
Having received his answer, Lucius turned away, the moth still in his hands, and with one easy gesture, flung it's pitiful remains into the fire.  
  
"NO!!!" Draco screamed and ran forward, but Lucius caught him around the waist, holding him back from thrusting his hands into the flames and rescuing what was left of his sister. "Father!!! She was your _daughter!_" Draco screamed in anguish before he collapsed, sobbing, to the floor. "How c-could y-you?" His body racked with sobs and Lucius stared down, face devoid of any emotion, then calmly walked over and closed the window.  
  
"I made a mistake when I begged Voldemort for her life. But take comfort in knowing that the death I granted her just now was more merciful than the one he had planned for her. You can return to school tomorrow. Perhaps the expectations of your fellow students will prompt you to grow up better than I have yet managed."  
  
Draco gave him no answer save for the sounds of his weeping. Disgusted, Lucius walked out of his son's room, slamming the door shut after him.  
  
Draco made no move to get up from the cold floor. The fire burned brightly, but it was no longer pleasant. Draco cursed himself many times that night. If only he hadn't stared at the moth long enough to attract Lucius' attention to it; if only he had told Karylie not to come back at all that night . . . if only . . . if only . . . how those two words seemed to mock him.  
  
He curled up on his side, turned away from the hungry flames that had claimed the broken remains of his sister, and cried himself into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.  
  
He was not awake to see, therefore, the rain-spattered window and the white gypsy moth who beat her wings frantically against the glass, trying to find a way in while the rain and wind did its best to keep her away from succeeding.  
  
  


**To Be Continued . . .**

  
  
  
  
_Disclaimer: All characters save for Karylie belong to J.K Rowling._


	5. Serves Him Right 5

  
  
Snape scowled in irritation at a tapping on his window. An owl waited, equally ruffled, to be let in from the rain. Snape put his quill down across Neville's homework and weaved around chairs and desks to get to the rain-spattered window. Once he opened it, the owl flapped inside and perched on the back of a chair, shaking the water from its wings.  
  
It observed Snape arrogantly and impatiently stuck out its foot for him to take the letter attached.  
  
When it had flown back into the wind-whipped rain, Snape closed the window and took the letter to his lamp-lit desk to read.  
  
_Severus,  
  
I am pleased to inform you that Draco is ready to come back to Hogwarts. He has recovered from his illness, and will need no further treatment for it. He is to see you about any make-up work he needs to do immediately. We will be arriving at Hogwarts within the hour. Dumbledore has been notified as well. I would appreciate it if you both would meet us in the lobby.   
  
Sincerely,  
Lucius Malfoy_  
  
Snape frowned. Something wasn't at all right about this. Lucius didn't want Karyli teaching Draco but if he was letting Draco come back to Hogwarts this soon, it seemed to imply that Lucius was willing to let the matter rest. Like hell he was. A brisk knocking at his door jolted Snape. "Come in," he almost snapped.  
  
Dumbledore stepped into Snape's office. His twinkling eyes rested for a moment on the letter on Snape's desk. "Shall we wait for them, then?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," Snape replied, gathering up his papers, quill, and bottles of ink and piling them into desk drawers. "Have you seen Karyli?"   
  
"Oh yes, she's doing fine. Pomfrey's mended her arm beautifully. I did warn her," Dumbledore sighed, "about the rain and the wind."  
  
"She was hell-bent on getting to young Malfoy. I don't think a tornado could have kept her away," Snape replied, with a hint of fondness.  
  
Dumbledore chuckled as they walked along the hall towards the lobby. "Nor I, Severus."  
  


* * *

  
Draco did not look at his father during the whole trip. He kept his gaze averted to the fields, trees, rocks, and buildings that blurred past his view out the coach window. Although he refused to look at Lucius, he knew his father was looking at him. Draco could feel Lucius' eyes grazing across his skin like wind-driven grains of glass.  
  
Lucius had also spoken to Draco during the whole of the trip. He had talked, lectured, and ranted. About what, Draco didn't care; he hadn't listened nor made any attempt to pretend that he was listening. Lucius' voice had passed Draco's ears by as easily as the sound of the coach wheels on the gravel road.  
  
The coach stopped in front of the lake before Hogwarts. Wordlessly, Draco got his broom out from the back of the coach and his father did the same. Before he could kick off into the air, Lucius laid a cold restraining hand on Draco's shoulder. "What do you think you can accomplish by playing this stupid little game, Draco? Do you think you can continue to hate me when you come home for the summer? Do you think you can glare at me while eating the meals, wearing the clothes, and sleeping in the bed that I provide for you? Your anger will not last. I have done nothing unforgivable. And you depend on me too much to turn your back on me."  
  
Lucius' face held a triumphant sneer that Draco remembered using so many times before with Potter. God, had he really looked that awful? That cruel? Draco shuddered.  
  
As they flew over the lake, Draco could see two small figures waiting on the steps of Hogwarts. He strained his eyes searching for Karyli even though he had seen her crushed and fed to the flames. The vision came back to him then, so strong he swayed to the left and struggled to keep flying in a straight line as the tears came up to blind him. "Stop it," he hissed to himself, blinking them back furiously.  
  
He landed first and heard his father land beside him. "Good evening, Severus, Dumbledore."  
  
"Same to you, Lucius," Dumbledore said, and Snape gave Lucius a curt nod. "How was your weekend?"  
  
"The rain kept us within the Manor. It wasn't too unpleasant, mind you. Although we did have a small moth problem," Lucius dismissed casually.  
  
Draco's face tightened and he struggled not to show a shred of emotion. His father was baiting him. He could see the cruel smirk without looking. _Please, no more,_ he prayed. _No more . . . let him stop there._  
  
Draco dared to lift his eyes and realization hit him. Lucius wasn't trying to bait _Draco_. Dumbledore's face was gazing back at his father, less cheerily than before. Snape's face was hard, as if set in stone. He worked a relaxed smile onto his features at the last possible second and nodded as if nothing was wrong. Draco envied his ability to recover so easy. Even more, he envied Dumbledore's cheery aloofness from what he knew had come as a shock to both teachers.  
  
Lucius' voice changed the subject to Draco's grades. With a hollow twinge of satisfaction, Draco detected the disappointment in his father's voice at how Snape and Dumbledore had taken the hint. Obviously, Lucius had thought Snape and Dumbledore had something to do with Karyli's visiting Draco.  
  
With a sudden anger that scared him, Draco wished for Snape to let his control slip; to get out his wand and turn Lucius into a fat cockroach and stomp on it or worse. But Snape stood there and assured Lucius that Draco was indeed working hard in Potions and raising his marks impressively.  
  
The rest of the conversation became a blur as he saw his father's hand crush the life out of Karyli's fragile body yet again. Draco didn't move or speak, for fear he would be sick. Lucius bid him goodbye, and Draco had never felt more relieved and infuriated at the same time. He watched in disbelief as his father mounted his broom and took off over the lake. He watched in disbelief as neither Snape nor Dumbledore made any move towards their wands as his father rode away. And helplessly, the rational part of him resurfaced above his anger and informed him that it would prove nothing to hex Lucius at this point. What proof did Dumbledore or Snape have from Lucius' testament that he'd killed anything other than an ordinary moth? Disappointment hit Draco like a knife and he didn't realize he was about to fall until he felt Snape's hands on his shoulders, steadying him.  
  
"Draco?" Snape asked, gently. "Come with us. I believe you need to lie down for a bit."  
  
Trembling, Draco let Snape lead him through the hallway. He felt so sick he couldn't care less if he was being escorted to detention rather than a warm bed.  
  
Snape looked like he was struggling with something. Draco saw him turn his head toward Dumbledore and mutter something. Dumbledore answered back. "Tell him, Severus," he murmured sternly. "Heaven knows what Lucius did to make him believe . . ."  
  
Dumbledore trailed off and both teachers looked at Draco. "Draco," Snape said, softly, "Karyli's allright."  
  
It took a moment for the words to sink in. _She was allright. She was alive._ "But I saw her. He crushed her --" His father's hand reached across his vision to snap the moth between his fingers as easily as one would break a stick. Draco saw the ground coming up to meet him and heard Snape curse and felt arms catch him from falling any further than his knees. Snape was kneeling beside him, his arms wrapped around Draco offering support. Draco's eyes were fixed on the floor and like some unwilling prisoner, he was forced to watch his father crushing the moth again and again and again. He squeezed his eyes shut to blot out the vision and was comforted by the inky blackness behind the lids.  
  
Dumbledore's robes rustled as he too knelt next to Draco. "Whatever your father did was a lie. An illusion. Karyli was not hurt by Lucius in anyway. She was, however, decked by a rather large raindrop on her flight back to the tree. Pomfrey mended her arm easily enough. In a day or so, it will be as good as new."  
  
"Albus," hissed Snape, "We shouldn't have told him like this. He's been through enough."  
  
"Severus--"  
  
"_Don't coddle me with saying he's 'going to be allright', Albus! You can't feel how he's shaking!_" Snape roared. His voice was thick with anger, among other emotions. Draco swallowed and forced himself to take slower, deeper breaths. "Good," Snape encouraged softly in his ear, holding the boy closer. "Good, Draco, keep doing that."  
  
Snape shivered then; Draco felt it against his own skin. He heard Snape sigh. "I understand, Dumbledore, why you wanted to tell him now. I myself do not see why he should spend one more minute living with the lie his father showed him."  
  
Snape turned back to Draco. "Do . . . do you feel as if you can see her, Draco?" Heart too full to speak, Draco could only nod. "Dumbledore, could you go ahead of us and tell her . . . what happened?" Draco looked up, alarmed at the sudden weakness in Snape's voice.  
  
"Of course, Severus." Dumbledore's footsteps faded down the hall.  
  
"Tell me, Draco. I know you can't bear to remember it . . . but if you tell me now, I'll never let anyone ask you to talk about it again. What did he do to you? To her?" Snape demanded, hoarsely.  
  
Weakly, Draco leaned his head on Snape's shoulder and told him everything.  
  


* * *

  
Karyli stood shakily as the door to the Hospital Wing opened to allow Snape and Draco inside. They faced each other for a few frozen seconds. "Oh Draco," Karyli finally breathed, the first of many tears sliding down her face.  
  
She felt the self-hatred fill her as she comforted her brother's sobbing body in her arms, stroking his hair with her fingertips. If only she hadn't been so damn reckless about getting him out of the Manor. She never should have gone . . . she should have realized the possibilities she'd opened up for Lucius by taking such a delicate, vulnerable form. All she'd wanted to do was visit Draco; to comfort him and keep his mind off Lucius' anger. And in the end, she'd helped Lucius inflict a deeper pain than any beating from his hands or belt could. How could she have been so stupid?!  
  
She felt Snape's hand on her shoulder then, and knew he was taking just as much personal responsibility for what had happened as she was. He'd helped her, after all.  
  
It was then that Karyli realized that they could blame anyone - themselves, each other, Lucius, maybe even Voldemort - and it wasn't going to heal anyone. Whoever's fault it was, it simply didn't matter.  
  
Draco had fallen asleep in Karyli's arms. She carefully laid him down on the bed, on his chest and Madame Pomfrey helped her remove the boy's robes and get him into his pajamas. Karyli's eyes widened as they traveled over Draco's smooth back and she touched his skin to make sure of it . . . yes, Draco's welts were healed. "That bastard," she hissed.  
  
Snape looked at her inquiringly. "Lucius beat him," She explained bitterly. "When I was at the Manor, I accidentally brushed my hand against his welts - I could feel them underneath his _robes_."  
  
Snape immediately recalled how Lucius had insisted in his letter that Draco was over his sickness and didn't need to go to the Hospital Wing. Of course not. Lucius didn't want anyone detecting any traces of a healing spell. Too many uncomfortable questions would be raised.  
  
Karyli looked beaten herself. Snape put a comforting arm around her and led her to the teacher's common room at Hogwarts.  
  
"Minerva, could you get some coffee on the boil?" he asked McGonagall, who took one look at Karyli and started out of her seat.  
  
"What's the matter? Karyli? What happened?" she fussed.  
  
"Would you please, Minerva?" Snape asked, through clenched teeth. McGonagall gave him a stern, displeased look and walked to the kitchen.   
  
"Severus," Karyli admonished, "That was a bit rude, don't you think?" Snape started. She'd never called him by his first name before.  
  
"Sorry," he replied, awkwardly, sitting across from her at the table.  
  
"He knew exactly what he was doing," Karyli began, "Lucius closed the window so I couldn't get in. He wanted Draco to know the power he held over him . . . over me . . . oh God . . . what he must have went through . . . seeing . . . thinking I was reduced to a crushed lifeless thing in the palm of his father's hand . . . and then the fire . . ."  
  
"Stop it," Snape hissed, grabbing her wrists firmly to stop her hands from shaking. He didn't want her thinking about it, and he didn't want to think about it either. He got up and held her close, letting her rest against him until her body lost its tension and she relaxed. He gave her a squeeze and let her go just before McGonagall entered the kitchen with two steaming mugs of coffee. "Thank you," he told her politely, taking the coffee and placing one before Karyli.  
  
"I'm sorry, Severus."  
  
"There's nothing to be sorry for. Except that I wish I'd punched his lights out when I had the chance."  
  
Karyli almost choked on her coffee. "You and me both, Professor," she said wryly.  
  
Snape saw a smile light up her features and for the first time that night, he realized that for the moment at least, all was right in the world. She was safe; Draco was safe. Nothing would change that. Or so he swore.  
  


* * *

  
With Draco's return, things began to go back to normal. Karyli's class was popular with all four houses; something a teacher had rarely managed in the history of Hogwarts.  
  
Assured that they had Draco back on their side, the Slytherins were no more hostile toward Harry, Ron and Hermione than they'd been for the past four years. Remembering what Draco had written in the letter last weekend, Harry, Ron and Hermione tolerated it when Draco's cronies jeered at them in the hallway. Draco would sneer, half-heartedly. Sometimes, he didn't even look at them. Not as if he were ashamed . . . just disinterested.  
  
He hardly spoke a word to Harry or Ron or Hermione all week. If they were getting tired of his aloofness, it was nothing compared to how tired the other Slytherins were getting of it. Every time a Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff would make a clever remark, all eyes would turn to Draco for the comeback. He'd amuse them sometimes and fling back a barb or two, but he hardly put any of his usual spirit into it. It wasn't that he was still getting over the shock of what his father had done . . . in truth, Draco didn't know where he belonged. He needed a friend now, someone to talk to. But the more his Slytherin friends taunted Harry and pressured Draco into doing the same, the more afraid Draco became of approaching Harry as a friend.  
  
He felt useless. He couldn't taunt Harry because he wanted to stay on good terms with him, and yet he was too afraid to go against the rest of his classmates. Cowardly? Perhaps. But it was easy to be cowardly when you lived with people who would trash and steal whatever belongings you had or bombard you with hexes if you got on their bad side. Gryffindors wouldn't do that to Potter, Weasely, or Granger - not even Longbottom. Right there was an example; if Longbottom had been put in Slytherin, he would've been crucified.  
  
Draco knew he'd have to make a choice. And it was a decision he awaited with dread. Would he stay on the safe side and have his fellow house-members beside him and yet no-one to talk to, or would he have three constant friends and face a roomful of jeering Slytherins ready to throw hexes or worse at him every night? Part of Draco felt disgusted with himself; all his life, he'd striven to be popular as opposed to hated. He'd cast down people just as insecure as he was, all to keep his own imperfections from showing, ever afraid of rejection. And now all he wanted was acceptance from the very three people he'd cast down the most. So many times he wondered how he could even begin to make such a decision. Until one day, it was all taken out of his hands.  
  
"Mudblood Graaaaaangerrrrr!" called Ashley Lorac, a fifth-year. "Hey Mudblood!" yelled Flint at the top of his lungs. "You better run to little Harry and Ron so they can protect you!"  
  
_Oh, no_, Draco thought as members of his group started walking faster towards the girl across the Quidditch fields. Some boys broke out into a run. _They've caught her alone . . . _  
  
Draco began running too. He knew the moment that Hermione began running from the advancing Slytherins that she wouldn't outrun them, not at least with all she was carrying. _Drop your books, for crying out loud, Granger! They'll catch you!_ Draco hissed at her mentally. He didn't know what good he was doing, running alongside the Slytherins bent on chasing her down like this, but if he stopped, he'd lose them. Ahead of him, he saw the boys gaining on her fast. Draco cursed. They were far from any teachers now . . . whatever happened to Hermione would probably not go unpunished, but that was beside the point. Draco didn't want it to happen at all. The thought that he had, at one point, only sickened him further.  
  
He was thirty feet away when the first boy grabbed Hermione's hair and flung her down on the grass, sending her books flying from her arms. Two more boys and one girl screamed taunts at her breathlessly and kicked and slapped at her. More were gathering around, thickening the circle and Draco nearly despaired. It was now or never. He couldn't get a teacher; not soon enough to help Hermione and she needed help now. It was all up to him.  
  
Draco gritted his teeth and kept running at breakneck speed toward the mob around Hermione. The grass was slippery from the rain and he'd have trouble stopping. But then, he had no intention whatsoever of stopping on his own.  
  
Flint was raising his meaty fist over Hermione's cringing body when a shout and several cries of pain distracted him. The Slytherins either leapt or were shoved aside as Draco plowed through them and flung himself on hands and knees over Hermione. A blow shook his side and he felt a fist connect with his left shoulder-blade before several girls screamed at Hermione's attackers to stop. Draco stood up and came face to face with Marcus Flint.  
  
"Draco, what are you doing?" Flint snarled. "This is the most fun we've had all week."  
  
Hermione moaned feebly and when she lifted her head, Draco smelled blood. "You bastard," he spat, glaring at Flint - glaring at _all_ of them. Before anyone knew what was happening, Draco had whipped out his wand and raised it in the air. Red sparks shot out of it, and from far off came a teacher's voice yelling in alarm.  
  
Shock, disbelief, and then panic set in among the Slytherins. "Scram!" yelled Flint and Slytherins shot in all directions. Draco knelt next to Hermione and helped her rest on her back. "Granger?" he asked softly.  
  
"Malfoy, you stupid jerk, was this your idea?" Hermione muttered thickly.  
  
"No. Why would I help you?"  
  
"That's right . . . you grew a heart. I'd almost forgotten," Hermione said, smiling although one lip was bleeding.  
  
"Are you allright?"  
  
"Where are my books?"  
  
"Forget the bloody books, how are _you_ feeling?"  
  
"Get me a book - a heavy one - let me slam it down on one of those stupid Slytherin's heads, and _then_ I'll tell you how I feel," Hermione gasped, as Draco helped her sit up.  
  
"What happened here?!" demanded Professor McGonagall. She took one look at Hermione and almost swooned. "_Granger!_" she cried. Furious, she grabbed Malfoy's ear between finger and thumb and dragged him to his feet.  
  
"OW!!! Ow ow ow!" Draco yelped.  
  
"What happened, Malfoy?!"  
  
"They attacked her and I drove 'em off with the sparks! Let go, _please!_"  
  
"_WHO_ ATTACKED HER?!"  
  
"Slytherins!" Draco howled in pain.  
  
"WHICH ONES?! I WANT NAMES, MALFOY!"  
  
"I'm not naming anyone. Ask Hermione, she'll tell you," Draco moaned. His ear felt as if it were about to come off in McGonagall's hand. Her fingernails were digging into the flesh - any deeper and he'd be able to wear an earring.  
  
"MALFOY! NAMES! NOW! NO EXCUSES!"  
  
"Please, Professor, I didn't see the ones who hurt her the most --"  
  
"I SAID NO EXCUSES!!!"  
  
Malfoy closed his eyes tightly in frustration. It wasn't fair, he thought. He'd done the right thing, and now he was getting yelled at and on top of that, his ear was going to be sore for at least a week.  
  
He had no choice. He began to give names, knowing full well that there were probably some Slytherins hiding in the bushes overhearing him and that there would be hell to pay when he got back to his dorm room in the Slytherin quarters.  
  
When he'd given at least eight names, McGonagall had let go of his ear, allowing him to nurse it tenderly with his fingertips. He blinked back tears and numbly bent down to help Hermione gather her books.  
  
He felt hot tears escape past his eyelids to land on the grass. She hadn't said a word to help him, he realized angrily. She'd sat there in silence while McGonagall had grilled him, and now she . . . Draco cursed himself softly when he turned to look at her. McGonagall was talking to her soothingly while Hermione sobbed in the older woman's arms. Draco wiped his own tears away, angry at himself. Why should he be the one crying? _She_ was the one who'd gotten beat up and probably scared out of her wits.  
  
Draco finished gathering up Hermione's books and set them beside her on the grass, putting them into a neat pile, because it would have mattered to her. Hermione was still weeping and Draco wanted to say something comforting, but his throat was tight and he didn't know what to say.  
  
"Let's go to Madame Pomfrey," Professor McGonagall murmured, getting up to help Hermione. Draco carried her books silently and walked by her side. He couldn't begin to imagine what the other Slytherins had in store for him, but when he glanced at Hermione and she flashed him a huge smile, he didn't care if Crabbe and Goyle used him for a trampoline. McGonagall looked at him with less anger than she had before and she asked if he'd like to stay with Hermione while Madame Pomfrey patched her up. Draco readily agreed. He had no wish to go to bed anytime soon. Whatever was left of it, anyway.  
  
Harry and Ron caught a glimpse of Hermione coming down the hall with McGonagall and Draco and the response was immediate.  
  
"What did you do to her, Malfoy?" Ron yelled, lunging for him. Harry held him back by his jacket; although he looked furious himself, he wasn't about to attack Draco in front of a teacher.  
  
"Weasely! Contain yourself!" McGonagall ordered sharply. Ron stopped yelling and both Harry and Ron followed Hermione to the Hospital Wing. Along the way, Hermione explained what happened.  
  
Draco had been expecting their initial reactions, and wasn't too surprised by their misplaced anger at him, but it still gave him a great deal of satisfaction when Ron gruffly apologized and Harry clapped him on the shoulder.  
  
"You saved her, Malfoy? Great, we'll never hear the end of it now," Harry teased. Draco allowed himself to grin.  
  


* * *

  
Snape sighed as he poured the restorative into a goblet and began to dispose of the excess potion. Karyli, for her part, shook her head fondly.  
  
"Never thought I'd see the day Draco became a school hero."  
  
"He'll be a hero with three houses, not four. Slytherins are not known for their forgiveness. Still," Snape said, going into the back room to pour the contents of the cauldron down the drainage, "It'll take some of the swagger out of Potter to know his enemy is as popular as he is."  
  
Karyli groaned. "Again with Potter? Come on Severus, can't you admit you like him a little?"  
  
There was a loud clang and the sound of several objects hitting the floor before a very disgruntled, "NO!" came from the back room.  
  
Biting her lip, Karyli took the filled goblet and left the Potions classroom before she lost control of her mirth completely.  
  


* * *

  
"Here, drink this," Karyli told Hermione, handing her the restorative in the goblet. "It'll help you relax. Pomfrey thinks it best you sleep here for tonight."  
  
"Thank you, Miss Karyli," Hermione said, and downed the potion.  
  
"As for you boys, I think you'd all better head back to your dorms. It's late."  
  
Harry, Ron and Draco exchanged glances. Karyli knew those glances all too well. "Okay, what's up?" she asked.  
  
"Draco's got nowhere to sleep," said Harry. "Nowhere safe, if you think about it."  
  
Karyli cocked her head, thinking. Her eyes sparkled mischievously and she smiled. "Draco, I think I have a solution that will work for you . . ."  
  
Ten minutes later, Karyli, Harry and Ron bid Hermione goodnight and walked out of the Hospital Wing. She waved as they left, making sure to leave the door open a crack behind them. A silver-blonde cat leapt up on the bed and peered into her face anxiously. "Mrreow?"  
  
"For the last time, I'm fine, Draco. Go to bed."  
  
The cat twitched an ear and leapt off the bed to land gracefully on the floor. Lazily it squeezed out of the open door and followed Harry and Ron down the hall to Gryffindor. "Hey, Harry, we'd better make sure Mrs. Norris is spayed." Hermione heard Ron joking. There was a low growl and Ron yelped. "Ouch, Draco! Allright, I'm sorry, now would you kindly get your claws out of my ankle?!"  
  
The sound of Harry's laughter was the last sound Hermione remembered before falling into a comforting, dreamless sleep.  
  


#### The End

  
  
  
  
  
_A/N: To be continued in further adventures going by a different title! ^_^ But first, I've got this weird fic to publish in a couple of days. It's cool, but it'll give you the willies. All characters beside Karyli and Ashley Lorac belong to J.K. Rowling._


	6. Full Circle 1

_A/N: SO sorry for taking forever to get this done. I was forever busy with college work and upcoming Halloween. (getting my costume done). Hope you guys had a great Halloween btw! :D I went to a haunted graveyard in Santa Cruz. According to legend, myth, or whatever, a few years back some kids went to the graveyard and conjured up a demon. The demon ripped the arm off one of the kids, but the rest got away. It was pretty creepy walking in the pitch blackness between all those tombstones; our flashlights had failed the moment we stepped through the gate into the graveyard. o.O*_  


## 

Full Circle part I

  
Draco yawned and stretched his lanky body, causing the fur to raise along his spine. He jumped down from the couch and padded towards Harry's bed. It was eight o'clock, about time to get up for breakfast, and Draco was hungry.  
  
Draco leapt up onto the bed, and Harry mumbled something about Quidditch practice and rolled over. "Mreow," Draco demanded, batting Harry's ears with one of his paws to wake the boy up. Harry was Draco's charm-speaker; mainly the one who would change him back to human form when they got out of the Gryffindor quarters.  
  
Harry groaned and opened one eye after a few more seconds of Draco's insistent meowing.  
  
"Five more minutes, Malfoy."  
  
Draco picked Harry's glasses up from the bedside table with his teeth and imperiously presented them to Harry.  
  
"Good for you, but I'm not getting up just yet."  
  
Draco blinked his gray eyes in irritation and sat on Harry's chest.  
  
"Malfoy. Off. Now. I'll get up when I'm ready."  
  
If cats could sigh, Draco would have. He jumped off Harry's bed and walked back to the Common Room. He stopped in surprise when he saw Neville sitting on the couch, frantically looking through his bookbag.  
  
"Where did I put my Potions essay?! It was in here last night!" he fretted.  
  
Draco sat on his haunches, and twitched his tail. He _could_ help Neville look, but he was hungry and didn't want to waste any more energy than necessary. And besides, he had no idea what Neville's parchment could be or even where to begin to look, and -- _what was that?!_ Draco caught sight of something poking out from underneath the chair Neville was sitting in. A piece of string . . . Draco watched it with interest. Neville, giving up hope, slumped back in the chair. Draco stiffened - the string moved! Without even knowing why or what he was doing, Draco pounced.  
  
After a few moments of batting and tugging, he proudly dragged the defeated string halfway out from its hiding place. _I caught the string! I caught the string! I . . . WHAT THE HECK AM I DOING?!_  
  
"Oh!" he heard Neville cry in surprise. "You found it!" Neville picked the string up and gave it a tug. Out from under the chair slid Neville's parchment roll. Neville sighed in relief and happily began retying the string around it.  
  
"What a smart cat!" Neville said, admiringly, and before Draco could dart away, he stroked a hand along Draco's furry back.  
  
Draco, as surprised as he was, arched his back under Neville's hand in pleasure. Neville praised him some more in amazement and continued to pet him. Draco didn't realize he was purring until he heard Potter and Weasley laughing in the doorway.  
  
"I barely have the heart to turn him back now. Did you enjoy that, kitty?" Harry teased.  
  
Draco stared at him, horrified. Ron cracked up. "Would you look at his face! Priceless!"  
  
Embarrassed, he slunk over to the exit and waited to be let out of the portrait. Neville was confused.  
  
"What was that all about?" he asked, getting the rest of his things together.  
  
"Er, nothing, Neville. Usually that cat's not so friendly, that's all."  
  
"Well, he certainly saved my skin! My Potions essay was under the chair. I never would have found it if he hadn't been playing with the end of the string."  
  
"He was playing with string? Harry, do you think we ought to get him a ball of yarn for Christmas?"  
  
Draco wanted to die right then and there. He scratched impatiently at the back of the portrait. The Fat Lady's indignant voice yelled at him from the other side to stop it immediately.  
  
"Allright, Ron, that's enough. Come on, let's go to breakfast."  
  
Neville said the password, walked through the entrance, and headed down the hall to get breakfast. Draco slipped out, where he waited furiously for Harry and Ron to follow, tapping the end of his tail on the floor.  
  
"Lookit, Harry, he's giving us the cold shoulder," said Ron, coming out first.  
  
"Ron, really, leave off. Ready Draco?" Draco finally turned and stared up at Harry, telling him with his eyes to perform the spell. Harry took out his wand while Ron kept a lookout for anyone coming.  
  
"_Anthropos._" Harry muttered under his breath and Draco's small body shimmered, growing back into human form.  
  
"_You_," he growled at Weasley. "Had better knock it off."  
  
Ron returned the glare. "Someone's just a little too sensitive. I was only joking."  
  
"Right, whatever. Sorry for snapping, I'm still getting used to this and you weren't making it any easier by that crack about Mrs. Norris."  
  
Ron grinned. "Still seething about that, are we Malfoy?"  
  
"Only because it was too easy for you."  
  
"Yeah, well I had to get my ankle bandaged. Does that satisfy you?"  
  
Malfoy sighed. "Let's make a deal. No more cat jokes and I'll keep my claws and teeth to myself, agreed, Weasley?"  
  
"Agreed. And call me Ron. I hate the way you say my last name."  
  
"Same here. It's Draco, allright? See you two in class."  
  
"What? You're not sitting with us?" Harry asked in surprise.  
  
"You mean, the others in your house will let me?" Draco asked, daring to sound hopeful.  
  
"We will, right Ron?"  
  
Ron nodded. "And so will Hermione. She should be up and well by now."  
  
Draco smiled back at him, although uneasily. An uneasiness that grew with each step the trio took toward the dining hall. Harry noticed Malfoy's uncomfort and anxiety and stopped just before they opened the doors.  
  
"Stick close to us, Draco, whatever happens. Don't look anyone in the face at the Slytherin table if you can help it."  
  
"Right." Draco said and taking a deep breath, stepped through the doors with Harry.  
  
He forced himself not to look at the Slytherin table, but he could feel their eyes on him. The Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Gryffindors, however, were looking at him in a mixture of bewilderment and admiration that Draco appreciated, but still felt unnerving. What were they going to expect of him now? More heroic defiance of his own house members?   
  
Boos and hisses came from the Slytherin table as Draco sat with Harry, Ron and Hermione, who was there before they came in. "How are you feeling, Grang- I mean Hermione?"  
  
"Much better, thank you," Hermione said, trying to sound bright and cheerful over the overpowering voices of the Slytherins. Draco swallowed hard, and suddenly realized he had lost his appetite. _Nerves_, he thought glumly. _How can I eat when everyone's looking at me?_  
  
Harry put a hand on his shoulder. "You allright?"  
  
"No. But I'll be fine," Draco answered in a small voice.  
  
Draco did his best to give Harry, Ron, and Hermione his full attention as they talked about a variety of things. But not even Quidditch could distract him from the cold glares of his fellow Slytherins; the coldest of all belonging to Marcus Flint.  
  


* * *

  
"Congratulations, all of you, on your test results. The lowest score was a C-minus. I'll go over the questions that most of you got wrong so you can take note of them for the midterm exams," Karylie said while she passed out corrected tests. "But first, we're going to move on to the subject of zombies."  
  
"Bet Draco was the one with the C-minus," Flint said, casually. Draco felt his face burn.  
  
"No actually," Karylie said coolly, "He wasn't." She dropped Marcus' test on his desk and his eyes widened when he saw the red C-minus circled by his name. He spent the rest of class in silence, glaring at Karylie whenever her back was turned.  
  
"Now, about zombies. You all remember how I restored that plant on the first day of class?"  
  
Almost everybody nodded, with the exception of Flint and a few other Slytherins who seemed determined not to participate in order to get at Draco.  
  
"You, um, sort of muttered it under your breath, Professor Karylie. So we couldn't hear you," said Neville.  
  
"Thank you, Neville. I didn't speak it loud enough for the rest of you to hear, because I hadn't yet explained the spell's true purpose. Today, I will." Karylie reached into her bag and pulled out a small bundle wrapped in a cloth. She carefully undid the bundle and revealed a large, dead crow. "I found him in the fields. It appears a cat got him and didn't bother to eat much of him."  
  
She took out her wand and poised it over the crow. "_Lazarusim_," She chanted, and the effect was immediate. The crow's empty eye-sockets were suddenly holding two very bright eyes, it's feathers were growing back, and any ant-eaten flesh was being reproduced rapidly. The crow flapped akwardly and got to its feet. Karylie slid her hand before it and it obligingly stepped onto her fingers.  
  
"Could any of you tell this was a corpse of a crow, if you saw him sitting on a fencepost or just outside the window, doing what crows normally do?"  
  
This time everyone started talking at once, even Flint and the other Slytherins, and Karylie raised her hand for silence. "Miss Karylie," Hermione cried, raising her hand. She appeared agitated, as Karylie noted with concern.  
  
"Yes Hermione?"  
  
"Surely there must be a way to tell a zombie from the real thing. I mean, dark wizards like You-Know-Who could use this charm to get at a lot of people!"  
  
"Yes. He could, Hermione. And worse yet, a zombie is under the wizard's complete control. Much like the Imperius curse." Karylie turned to the crow. "Fly twice in a circle and then return to me." The crow flapped its wings and circled the class room two times before coming back to rest on Karylie's hand. "If the Dark Lord brought back someone close to you and ordered them to kill you, they wouldn't hesitate. _You_ would probably hesitate, for fear of hurting your family member. And that's the purpose of this spell. To weaken you in combat through your emotions."  
  
"How . . . how do you put a zombie back to rest?" asked Harry. "Without harming the bodies?"  
  
Karylie looked away for a moment, then turned back. "It is the wizard alone who can put the body back to its state of death. There is a counter-curse, but if the zombie's controller is strong enough, it will not work for you. You might even have to destroy the body completely."  
  
Harry felt a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. He looked down, biting his lip. If Voldemort got to his parents . . . made them attack him . . . no . . . no, he wouldn't. _Would he?_  
  
He was aware of Ron's hand on his shoulder and gave him a small smile in gratitude.  
  
"I realize this is hard for many of you. You've probably lost family members and friends at some point in your life, and the prospect of having to hurt them, even though they're already dead, is far from pleasant. But at least you're prepared now. Magic cannot bring people back to life, as you know, but it can make people appear to live. It can melt away rot and the stench of death, and give the body a wholesome healthy glow. But the one thing it can't do, is bring back a person's personality. The personality rests within the soul, and the soul is already gone. That's what makes it so easy to control a zombie; nothing is within the body to fight the curse. A person will look whole again, but vacant and empty of any intelligence or emotion. That's how you can tell a zombie from the real thing."  
  
"What about with animals?" asked Dean Thomas.  
  
"It's harder to tell with animals. If you observe them for long enough, you'll begin to notice something funny. They won't eat anything you offer them, they won't be afraid when you approach them, and they won't urinate or leave feces."  
  
Most of the class erupted into giggles. "But at first glance, you won't be able to tell. Some the afore-mentioned signs will show if you stare at an animal for an hour or more, but that's too long and there are way too many animals out there to make sure they're not all zombies. It's zombie people you have to worry about the most. Especially zombies who were once wizards.  
  
"Now, I'm going to teach you the countercurse," Karylie said, putting the crow down to stand on the cloth. She pointed the wand at the crow's heart. "_Eternilysian_"  
  
The crow fell over as if dead and slowly, the new feathers, flesh and eyes melted away to reveal the dead crow's true appearance. "Not only does this put the zombie to rest; it insures that its body will never be magically tampered with again. The first part of the counter-curse begins with 'Eterni' derived from the word eternal. The second part; 'lysian', comes from the word 'Elysian' in reference to the Elysian Field, the place it is believed mortals go when they die."   
  
To prove her point, Karylie pointed her wand again at the crow, and said "Lazarusim." This time, nothing happened and the crow remained where it lay. She wrapped the cloth around the creature, tied it with twine, and put the bundle back into her bag. "I'll bury him later. Are there any more questions?"  
  
"No," the rest of the class answered glumly.  
  
Karylie noted looks of fear and worry on at least half the students in the room. "You all know not to let your guard down for anything now. I'm sorry this lesson bothered you, but you had to know," she said, gently.  
  
"That spell should be made an Unforgivable Curse," muttered Ron.  
  
"It should, Ron. And it _would_, but as it's done on people who are dead already, it's not worthy of a lifetime in Azkaban."  
  
"But the emotional strain on a _living_ person . . . it's not right people should get away with it," fretted Hermione.  
  
"Oh they don't. Wizards caught using the spell on a human are now sentenced to at least twenty years in Azkaban."  
  
"Only twenty!" cried Seamus. "It should be at least fifty!"  
  
"Do you want to know why it's not an Unforgivable Curse? The real reason that's been covered up til now?" Karylie's silver eyes had a very shifty look about them and the rest of the students knew she was about to tell them something that shouldn't be told. They leaned forward eagerly. "Allright. The reason is, before it was outlawed, the Ministry of Magic commonly used the spell."  
  
"WHAT?!" cried the class as a whole.  
  
"That can't be true! My dad would've told me!" cried Ron.  
  
"Your father doesn't work in that particular area. It's most likely, he never knew. This was covered up even to other members of the Ministry."  
  
"How'd you find out then?" challenged Marcus.  
  
"Oh, Mr. Malfoy' tongue may have slipped once or twice while I was still living at the Manor. But anyway," Karylie changed the subject hurriedly, seeing Draco grimace at the mention of their father, "The Aurors used the spell to identify Death-Eaters."  
  
"What? How?" asked Pansy.  
  
"They would find the latest victim of Death-Eaters and bring them back. Now I said a zombie was empty of a soul, but if the brain was fresh, they could explore the person's memory banks in search of the killer's face. This certainly couldn't be used as evidence in court because they wanted this technique kept secret. A lot of protest would be raised if the families of the zombies found out what the Ministry Aurors were doing. However, the evidence the Aurors gained kept them watching named killers until they found something to pin on them in court.  
  
"So the spell wasn't made an Unforgivable Curse because otherwise, the Aurors would get in trouble," Karylie continued. "There are laws in progress to protect the Aurors and punish dark wizards and Death Eaters who used the Lazarusim spell with equal ferocity as they'd be punished for using an Unforgivable Curse, but so far, none have been passed. Fudge keeps vetoing them. He doesn't approve of these laws because he's afraid they'll be abused by the Aurors."  
  
After a few more questions and answers, Karylie went over the questions commonly missed on the test then let the students pack up for their next class. Everyone got up, talking excitedly when the bell rang. Draco got up and was almost knocked down when Flint shoved past him.  
  
"Watch it, Malfoy," growled Flint.  
  
"Is there a problem?" Karylie asked, frowning.  
  
"No, ma'am." Huffily, Flint walked out the door, letting it slam behind him. Draco glared after him.  
  
"Draco, you coming?" asked Harry, about to head out the door himself. Ron and Hermione had already gone ahead.  
  
"Yeah, wait for me outside, would you?"  
  
"No, stay please. I'd like to talk with you for a minute, Draco," Karylie said, putting a hand on her brother's shoulder.  
  
"Very well," Draco replied, sitting down again. Harry mouthed 'see you later' and walked to class. Draco gulped at the thought of having to walk to Charms alone.  
  
"Are you allright?" Karylie asked gently. "This isn't getting to you too much, is it?"  
  
Draco was about to ask what, but he knew what his sister was talking about. "Not terribly," he told her. "They weren't really good friends in the first place. The problem is . . . well, I did a favor for Hermione. Am . . . are they going to look down on me if . . . oh I don't know," Draco snapped, angry at himself for not being able to get the words right.  
  
"It's okay, Draco. Take your time."  
  
"No, I can't. I'll be late for class."  
  
"I'll write you an note. Or if you like, we can talk during lunch."  
  
Draco smiled at that. He hadn't felt very welcome at the Gryffindor table either this morning, despite Harry, Ron, and Hermione's acceptance. He had the trust of three Gryffindors. Draco doubted he'd gain much more than that, unless he miraculously accomplished a feat of courage as great as Harry Potter had the previous four years. The prospect of sitting with Karylie and apart from the either gawking or glaring students was quite pleasant.  
  
"I'll see you at lunch then," he told her, picking up his books.  
  
"Okay then." Karylie kissed his cheek. "Take that for luck," she said and Draco blushed.  
  
"Karylie . . ." he moaned embarrassed. She burst out laughing and shooed him out the door to class.  
  


* * *

  
"I was wondering if you'd like to go somewhere with me; help me gather some supplies for Snape's office. He needs jewelflower, arrowroot, and gray moss. He's been feeling under the weather lately and Ireland's cold this time of year."  
  
"Ireland?!" Draco exclaimed, almost dropping his forkful of baked potato.   
  
"Yep. It'll be a little dangerous, though," Karylie warned, reaching for a napkin. She wiped some spilled sour cream off the table. "The Unseelie Court's been acting up ever since Voldemort came back into power," she confided in a low voice. "They may cause us trouble."  
  
"We should be allright, as long as we're not out after nightfall."  
  
"They're still creatures of the night, but we're going to have to travel into the heart of the Black Loch for those plants, Draco. And there's worse things in there than Dark Faerie."  
  
"I promise I'll be careful, Karylie. Are you sure Dumbledore will allow it?"  
  
"Certainly. In fact it was his idea."  
  
"Really? I always thought he liked Harry better."  
  
"Draco," Karylie admonished gently. "Dumbledore doesn't choose favorites. He understands people's character and he has a very open mind. I think the reason he likes Harry so much is because he's been through so much and he's not broken. That's admirable, don't you think?"  
  
"Yes. I did quite get sick of people making such a fuss over him though. And don't say I'm just jealous. I'm not."  
  
"Good, because I bet he's sick of it too."  
  
"Well, I'll say this for him. He certainly doesn't know how to deal with all the publicity he gets. For one thing, you _never_ act shy. Shyness is very endearing to the public and just attracts more reporters and admirers."  
  
Karylie surveyed Draco with an amused look on her face. "Who told you all that?"  
  
"The king of smarm and publicity himself; Father," Draco answered bitterly. "Anyway, I told Harry to really ham it up the next time he's flocked by reporters and they'll get disgusted enough to turn away. He'll get a few less-than-flattering articles about him, but at least they'll give him a little more space."  
  
"Do you think he'll take that advice?"  
  
"No. Ron said I was just trying to get Harry unpopular. Hermione said I was just trying to be funny. Harry believed Hermione, fortunately. Otherwise I'd still be a cat and probably stuffed in Ron's trunk."  
  
Karylie shook her head, laughing. "Well, anyway, I need three other people to come with us. Safety in numbers. Tell them Snape will give points to their Houses if they come."  
  
"You don't want me to ask any Slytherins, do you?" Draco asked, worriedly.  
  
"Snape will announce it to your other house-members, I'm sure. Although I don't think they'll be too keen on coming with me. That Marcus Flint was a total sourpuss today."  
  
"They're angry at _me_," Draco said. "I wish they'd leave you out of this."  
  
"It doesn't bother me. I'm a teacher; I'll keep teaching no matter how popular or unpopular I am." Karylie finished her potato and moved on to her turkey leg. "Want the skin?" She offered Draco.  
  
"Sure," Draco said, peeling it off. "I've always loved the skin."  
  
"You sure have. I honestly don't know why."  
  
"Just the texture of it. It's tough and chewy and it's got flavor. Mother never approved of eating the skin by itself. Thought it looked disgusting."  
  
"Well, it kinda does, if you think about it."  
  
They ate in silence for a while. Down the table, Severus Snape was talking to McGonagall. He snuck a glance toward them, gave a curt nod to Draco, and glanced at Karylie for a lingering moment before turning back to McGonagall. Draco looked down at his plate, feeling as if he'd intruded on something. He coughed softly and hoped he wasn't being too cheeky by asking the question in his mind. "Karylie, do you . . . er . . . I know this is a personal question . . . but . . ."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Draco lowered his voice to a whisper. "Do you think Professor Snape has a crush on you?" Karylie almost choked on her next bite.  
  
"Wherever did you get that idea?" she asked, blushing.  
  
"Oh, I don't know. It's just . . . um. You seem to be close. As friends. And of course I had to go and be stereotypical of what's probably an innocent friendship just because you're of the opposite sex. I'm sorry."  
  
"No, no, it's quite allright. Snape and I go a long ways back. For the three years I went here, I was in Slytherin. Snape and I were good friends. Well, until that dreadful row I had with him about my . . . my boyfriend."  
  
"Who?" asked Draco.  
  
Karylie was a deeper shade of pink and she took a sip from her goblet to stall having to answer the question.  
  
"Come on, Karylie. Who?"  
  
"Remus Lupin."  
  
Draco made a disgusted face and Karylie gave him a withering look. "I take it you don't approve either?"  
  
"Well, certainly not. And Snape _hates_ Lupin. It's no wonder you had a fight."  
  
"I know. Couldn't ever see why, until I ran into Snape a few years ago at the Leaky Cauldron. We made up and Snape told me all about Lupin and why he didn't want me hanging around him. I doubt even half of it was true; he always was the false rumor-spreader of Hogwarts. When he had a grudge, he _really_ held a grudge."  
  
"You did believe Snape about Lupin being a werewolf, didn't you?"  
  
"To tell you the truth, Draco, I didn't then, while I was still going to Hogwarts. I thought he was just making it up because Lupin was in Gryffindor and we were all supposed to hate Gryffindors. I got mad at his insistent pettyness and told him I never wanted to talk to him again. I didn't believe him; didn't want to. Lupin was romantic, brave, kind-hearted, handsome --"  
  
"Karylie, I'm about to lose my lunch."  
  
"Allright, enough on that, then. The point is, Snape was trying to protect me from getting hurt or killed. Snape had found out Lupin was a werewolf almost at the cost of his life and Dumbledore had sworn him to secrecy so Lupin could have a fair chance at education. I never knew that. Lupin never told me what a danger he was to me. And for that, I haven't even attempted to write to him after I learned the truth from Fa -- Lucius. In fact, I never want to see Lupin again."  
  
"That's a relief. But wait, he couldn't tell you because --"  
  
"Because he was afraid that I'd betray him. That hurt me most of all, more than Father hurt me by trying to control who my friends were. I would have kept his secret. He sure told his other friends, like Pettigrew, James Potter, and Sirius Black. I'd hate to think it, but I'm afraid the reason Lupin didn't tell me was because I was in Slytherin," Karylie finished bitterly. She sighed, and pushed her empty plate away.  
  
"I'm sorry he did that to you."  
  
"Oh, he didn't do anything to me. It doesn't make him a bad person. Just a bad boyfriend."  
  
"Do you think Snape was angry because he wanted you to be his girlfriend?" Draco whispered, slyly.  
  
Karylie had to grin. "Don't breathe this to a soul," she whispered back, "But I've toyed around with the idea and I think it's possible he did."  
  
"Would you be his girlfriend if you asked?"  
  
"Draco Jared Malfoy, if you even _dare_ think of playing matchmaker --"  
  
"I won't get involved, I swear it. You have my word of honor," Draco promised.  
  
"Nevertheless, I won't tell. That question's a little too personal."  
  
"Allright, then. One more question. How old is Father? Really?"  
  
Karylie coughed into her napkin, trying not to laugh. "How old has he told you he is?"  
  
"He says and looks thirty-two. But I can do arithmancy fairly well, and I _know_ that can't be true because you're twenty-three and you were fourteen by the end of your third year at Hogwarts while I was only eight."  
  
"Thirty-two? Ha! He was thirty when he had me."  
  
"Then if you're twenty-three now and he was thirty when he had you, that would make him . . . fifty-three years old?!"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"That's one hell of a wrinkle-free charm he uses!"  
  
Karylie and Draco looked at one another and burst out laughing, drawing a few curious stares from the surrounding teachers.  
  
"Well," said Karylie, wiping the tears from her eyes. "We sure went off on a tangent, didn't we?"  
  
"Yes. I suppose. I'll ask Potter -- I mean Harry, Ron, and Hermione if they want to come. They're pretty much the only people I _can_ ask at the moment. I'm sort of uneasy to talk to anyone else."  
  
"I'm sorry for that, Draco," Karylie said, wrapping and arm around her younger brother's shoulders. "You did a good thing and you were brave enough to do it in the face of controversy. Nobody could ask more of you."  
  
Draco felt comforted. He knew his sister would always be beside him, even if some of their views were different, but he was relieved she wasn't expecting him to act like a goody-two-shoes from now on.  
  
The bell signalling the end of lunch rang out, and the table was cleared magically of food, dirty plates, and goblets. Students got up and began filing out the doors to lunch. Harry caught Draco's eye and motioned towards the door, indicating that he was going to wait for him outside. Draco nodded back, and looked through his backpack to make sure he had everything for Potions class.  
  
"You know, it's kind of strange," he mused aloud, after retying his Potions essay.  
  
"What is?"  
  
"I never thought Harry would accept me unless I did something heroic and got myself half-killed in the process."  
  
"Really? That's why you hated him so much?"  
  
"Well no . . . guess I was a little indignant at the fact Potter has a female fanclub, even if he _doesn't_ want it let alone know about it. He's even got a few girls in Slytherin falling all over themselves whenever somebody speaks his name. But I don't suppose they count. They're probably only after his fame."  
  
"Jealous, Draco?" Karylie teased, getting up and tucking her chair underneath the table.  
  
"Don't bet your life on it," Draco replied, a bit too hastily. "Gotta go to class, see you!"  
  
Draco dashed toward the door, weaving his way through students, chairs, and tables. Karylie watched him and turned to see Snape standing beside her.  
  
"Hello, Karylie," he said, smiling benignly. "I heard you created quite a stir in your class today."  
  
"Still talking about the crow, are they?"  
  
"I saw Longbottom watching a crow out the window for at least ten minutes before he would move along to lunch."  
  
Karylie sighed. "I know they usually reserve lessons like that for the sixth years, but Voldemort's back and --"  
  
Snape shuddered violently and his face grew pale. "Don't say his name right now. Please." His hand moved to his arm and he grimaced in pain.  
  
"Sorry. But they really need to be ready. Vol -- You-Know-Who --"  
  
"Just don't mention him at all." Severus snapped. "I've had enough of him to last me a lifetime."  
  
"I'm sorry, Severus." Karylie said, trying not to sound offended, though she was indeed a little hurt. "You look ill . . ."  
  
"I _feel_ ill. My arm is burning - nevermind," he said, pulling away when Karylie reached for him. "I believe I will lay down for a while. Can you take over my class for the day?"  
  
"Certainly."  
  
"I'm sorry, Karylie. I didn't mean . . . when you collect the essays, put them on the desk in my office. Accept no excuses from any student. If it's not in by the end of class, they get an F. Good day, Karylie. Perhaps we can speak later," Snape brushed past her to leave the Dining Hall, still clutching his arm.  
  
Karylie watched him leave, worried for him. She knew exactly what was wrong with him; Snape had confided that he had been a Death Eater before deciding to work for Dumbledore. Meaning that the mark on his arm must be causing him a world of agony. "At least he's being reasonable enough to step down from teaching for today." She thought wryly. "In the mood he's in, he'd probably spend the entire class period screaming at Longbottom or some other poor Gryffindor."  
  
Snape was - had always been - stubborn and he dealt with his own pain, never letting anyone pity him. Perhaps he saw weakness in sympathy. Perhaps his father was like Lucius had been to both her and Draco. Karylie's heart ached for him, but she truly didn't know how she could help him. Or whether or not he'd let her.  
  
  


**To Be Continued . . .**

  
  
_Disclaimer: All characters besides Karylie Malfoy belong to J.K Rowling. Karylie belongs to me. (and in the future, maybe Snape . . . or Lupin . . . Let's take a vote, what do you guys think? I'm not planning on making things mushy, I promise.)_


End file.
